


The Oracle of Settlement B1C7

by Spudnik



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Earth Zoo AU, Gen, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 96,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudnik/pseuds/Spudnik
Summary: It is over 200 years since humanity was first brought under the jurisdiction of the Diamond Authority. Connie Maheshwaran and her family have been selected for relocation, but is everything in their new home as straightforward as it first appears? Connie has no choice but to try and get to the bottom of what's really going on, and learn more about how the human race ended up in this situation.





	1. Leaving Settlement P5T7

Mrs Maheshwaran extinguished the waxlights one by one as she descended the staircase for the final time. The beige wallpaper dimmed in the half-reflected light of dawn. Beneath her, Connie perched among the suitcases, staring glumly at the floor.

Priyanka paused two steps from the bottom, looking back. "I never liked this wallpaper," she murmured wistfully. After a moment, she turned to face Connie. "That's everything," she told her daughter. "It's nearly time to go. Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," Connie managed, trying to feign enough energy to stave off any accusation of sulking. It had been hard enough to remain chipper over the past few days, as they packed their entire lives into a few scant containers. Now after waking at cockcrow to be ready on time, she had spent more time than seemed reasonable sitting and waiting, staring at ornaments she would never see again.

"Where's your father?" Priyanka asked.

In response, Doug emerged into the hallway. "I was in the kitchen — just double-checking we didn't leave anything perishable."

"We could have packed more of the food," Connie half-heartedly protested.

"It's wrong to hoard food," came the predictable response. "This way, it's a nice gesture to whoever lives here next." Then, Priyanka smiled. "Besides, there'll be plenty to eat in our new home."

Doug checked his pocket watch. "It's two minutes to. I, uh, we don't want to keep them waiting."

"Right!" Priyanka stood up straight. "Grab your cases! Say goodbye to the house."

("Goodbye, house," they dutifully chorused, and exchanged momentary grins.)

As the family turned to the door, Connie paused as her mother rested a hand on her shoulder. "Connie, I know it's hard to move away. You'll always have happy memories of this place. Well, now it's time for us to go and make some new memories." Connie smiled, uplifted more by the intent of the pep talk than its substance.

They stepped out into the early light. The other houses in the settlement lay still, although in the distance an early riser could be seen tending their allotment.

A moment of silence as they stood on the front path. Doug shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Hmm. Thought they'd be here by..."

His utterance was cut off by a rush of air as the ship descended. Connie took an involuntary step back as the smooth metal came to an abrupt halt what felt like mere inches away. A door revealed itself, swooshing open on an empty cabin fitted with enough seats for at least twenty people. At the front of the craft, a short red gem sat at the helm of a dense control panel. Turning round in her chair, she smiled at the Maheshwarans and recited: "Greetings, humans! I'm here to transport you to be processed. Please step aboard!"

"Thanks, Ruby," said Doug as he climbed into the ship. Connie, overwhelmed by the novelty of the situation, was unable to process her response to this (how did he know her name?) before cognition caught up and she felt secretly embarrassed, but glad she hadn't managed to blurt out anything stupid.

As the door shut behind her mother, she wondered where they were meant to stow their cases, before a low humming alerted her to the fact that they were already moving. In defiance of physics, there was no inertia to be felt, and the cases lay still where they had been set down. The only real evidence of motion was the Ruby's grappling with the control systems, and Connie fervently wished there were windows so she could see how fast they were going. Or would this be a sight beyond the human mind's comprehension? Blinking, she made her way to sit between her parents in the warm unnatural light.

"Perhaps at processing we'll get some answers," Doug murmured. The letter, stamped with the Diamond Authority logo and signed on behalf of an Agate, had appeared on the Maheshwaran doormat with no fanfare. Its content was much the same as the previous time they had moved, the language striking an odd tone as if the writer was apologising for doing them a favour. Actual details were scarce, however, beyond the fact of their relocation and the deadline.

"What did they say the last time?" Connie asked.

"I suppose you were too young to remember. There were some cave-ins near the old house after an earthquake — the settlement wasn't in any danger, but it wasn't the best place for a growing child to be running around. I think a couple other families were moving too, for the same reason."

"It was absolutely right." Priyanka stared up at the walls of the craft as she spoke with a quiet intensity. "P5T7 has been a wonderful settlement. Such beautiful surroundings, and safe too. I only hope that our next home is just as suitable."

It was the first time it had occurred to Connie that her mother was anxious about the move, too.

Settlement P5T7 was nice. _Had been_ nice, she reminded herself. There was an orchard, gently rolling hills, and miles of scrubland beyond the fields. She'd been so young when they moved in that it was, to all intents and purposes, the only home she'd ever known. For years they had been largely self-sufficient, and had lots of time to spend together as a family.

Still, it could be a little stifling. Dad's work took up very little time, and Mom's only duties were in home-schooling her, so it had begun to seem like there was never a break from their parenting. And the other residents, although nice, weren't all that interesting to talk to. Connie couldn't help feeling a little jealous when her parents told her stories about places they'd lived before, some of which sounded a lot more fun. Her dad treasured fond memories of the friends he'd grown up with, sneaking out after dark to skim stones and watch gem ships manoeuvring against the stars. There were no ships in the night sky over P5T7. Connie had hardly ever seen any gems herself — mostly just the occasional Amethyst making a delivery. Even the Zircon with whom her dad had occasional meetings would come to the civic hall instead of the house. The more Connie dwelled on it, the more she suspected her fond memories of home were going to blend together somewhat. Perhaps this was the downside of living somewhere so safe.

_I hope we move somewhere interesting,_ she decided.

* * *

"Here we are!" the Ruby cheerfully announced as the door opened on a vast hangar. Sheer marbled walls surrounded them on all sides, and it was impossible to tell how the craft had got in.

They huddled in the shadow of dormant airships as a lilac figure approached.

"Priyanka, Doug and Connie?" the Amethyst grinned, looking them over in no particular order. "Follow me, it's not far."

As they reached for their luggage, she added: "Hey, I can take those for ya." She tucked Connie's case under one arm before effortlessly lifting the others, and strode in the direction of a doorway before they could thank her.

They followed the Amethyst down a broad corridor lined with mysterious brightly-coloured tubes. Gems of all shapes and sizes bustled between doorways.

"Where are we?" Connie asked, breathless.

"This is where gems work, Connie," her mother told her.

"But where is it?" Connie insisted. It seemed impossible that these majestic halls existed in the same world she knew.

"Hush with the questions, please. We can talk about it afterward."

Before long they were ushered into a kind of office. It had been furnished with some seats designed to be comfortable for humans, but the green gem inside perched on a solid angular throne adorned with translucent floating displays. She looked up and managed a half-smile as the doorway sealed itself.

"Good morning. Thank you for joining us. You can call me Moss Agate."

There were questions: had they enjoyed living in settlement P5T7? Had they been given enough notice to prepare for the resettlement? Had the gems they had encountered so far been polite and helpful? How many orbital cycles had it been since Connie's birth?

This last question was directed at Connie, and she overcame her shyness to tell Moss Agate that she was thirteen. The Agate fixed her with a too-broad smile, before turning her attention back to Connie's parents.

"No doubt you're anxious to know why you're being relocated."

"Oh..." "Well..." Their sudden eagerness to deny any such curiosity was quickly silenced with a gesture.

"It's alright. We know this can be a difficult process, especially with a thirteen-year-old... girl?"

Connie gave a quick nod, her expression serious.

Moss Agate took on a subtle but unmistakable air of self-importance as she launched into her speech. "There are a combination of reasons. It's no secret that agricultural yields around your settlement have been disappointing in recent years. Food subsidies have been on the increase, and while this is never an issue in terms of our own resources, it does not bode well for the ongoing self-sufficiency of the settlement. So this is just one step in an ongoing process of scaling down settlement P5T7 to a more realistic size.

"Furthermore, my analysis suggests that your talents are being wasted. Mr Maheshwaran, your Zircon speaks very highly of your peacekeeping efforts, but let's be frank: in such a small community there's precious little for you to actually do. Really, what trouble could there be? Mediating the occasional dispute over a horse? No doubt you've found it dull at points. And Mrs Maheshwaran," she continued without waiting for any response, "you have done a fine job raising such a polite child. There is no longer any need for you to dedicate yourself full-time to her education. You must miss teaching classes. Settlement B1C7, where you will be located, is large enough to sustain a small education centre. And yes, Miss Maheshwaran," — here she glanced triumphantly at Connie's suppressed excitement — "there will be other humans close to your age for you to interact with, which will aid in your social development.

"B1C7 is a coastal settlement of over a hundred humans. As I mentioned, there is an education centre, in addition to recreational areas, and a number of autonomous manufactories run by local residents for the benefit of the community."

Connie's melancholy of the past few weeks was becoming a distant memory. This new settlement sounded fantastic.

"I'm sure there's a lot you'd like to know, but don't worry. There will be plenty of time for you to be properly inducted upon your arrival." Moss Agate leaned forward, suddenly stern. "However, as this will be your first time living in a coastal settlement, there is just one thing I wish to make clear at this stage: the ocean is dangerous. I am aware that humans have a fascination with bodies of water. Do not be tempted to enter the ocean, or we will be unable to guarantee your safety. Remember this and your time in settlement B1C7 will be a pleasant one."

* * *

With the Agate's warning ringing in their ears, the meeting was swiftly wrapped up. The gem had been polite in her stilted, inhuman way, but did not give the impression that questions would be welcome. Her mom, the supreme authority figure in Connie's life as she knew it, had seemed cowed by the imposing gem in a way that brought home the inescapable gulf between their species. Gems didn't sleep, they didn't die. Their technology was beyond incomprehensible. The immensity of their knowledge threw humanity's ignorance into sharp relief.

_It must be like having to deal with animals,_ Connie thought.

Still, the excitement wasn't over: they would be travelling by gem warp! Again they were shepherded through identical corridors by a burly Amethyst — Connie thought it was the same one as before, but kept her reactions vague in case she was wrong and ended up seeming rude.

"We took your luggage through already," she was saying. "So don't worry about that, they'll be loading it up on the other side. B1C7, huh?"

"That's right," Doug responded, matching her tone. Connie had a sense he was hoping to fish for information, and made sure not to break the brief silence.

"It's a nice part of the world," the Amethyst volunteered. "Got some good fields out there so it's one of the larger settlements. Humans seem to like it, so you should be fine."

The chamber they had entered was filled with an array of circular, crystalline floor panels. These lit up intermittently as gems emerged from shafts of ethereal light, or disappeared into the same, none of them breaking their purposeful stride. Connie's gaze followed the lights up to the rocky ceiling, which looked more carved than built — were they underground? Their escort suddenly halted at one of the warp pads, directing the family on board. "Here you go, shorty," she encouraged, helping Connie up onto the platform.

"Miss? Ma'am... um, Amethyst?" The question fell out of her before she could think it through. "I've never ridden... I've never been in a gem warp. How... what do I..?"

The gem grinned. "Don't worry, it's easy. All you've got to do is stand still and I'll take care of the rest. Don't go moving around in the stream and we'll be golden. How about it?"

Connie nodded assent, relieved that she hadn't caused any offence. She glanced up at her parents to gauge whether she was in any trouble for speaking out of turn — which would be unfair, she told herself, as she could hardly start asking mom and dad for answers when they were standing in front of a representative of the all-knowing Diamond Authority.

As it was, her dad simply gave an encouraging smile. "Here, you can hold onto my hand if you like." Wordlessly, Priyanka made the same offer. The Maheshwarans linked hands as the Amethyst activated the warp pad with a gesture.

The surrounding area suddenly dissolved into a blur, and there was a sense of rapid motion as this blur resolved itself into a seemingly infinite vertical cylinder surrounding the four passengers. Connie's stomach lurched as gravity seemed to forget all about her. She glanced briefly up at her mother, whose hair was billowing out as if they were underwater. _Mine's doing the same,_ she realised, but swishing her head to one side to feel the effect just gave her motion sickness. Instead, she tried to find a constant point in the stream to focus on. This seemed in vain until an increasing proliferation of green spots began coalescing into an image, which abruptly came into focus and became their reality.

Gravity gently reasserted itself as the warp pad's energy dissipated, and they touched down on the glassy surface.

On the nearby road, their suitcases were being strapped down onto the back of a carriage by a stocky blonde woman in a blue uniform. She turned and waved as they descended from the pad, before resuming her work. "Looks like you're in good hands," the Amethyst offered, before reactivating the warp pad and dissolving into a pillar of light.

Mrs Maheshwaran took the lead in approaching the carriage. "Greetings. My name is Priyanka Maheshwaran. I see you're expecting us?"

The lady jumped down from the carriage. "Good afternoon, my name's Barbara Miller! I take it these are Doug and Connie? Pleased to meet ya." She extended her hand for a round of vigorous handshakes. "If you want to hop on board, I'll take you from here to the settlement, show you around a bit so you can make yourselves at home."

"Thank you. Were you waiting for us long?"

"No, not at all. Can't fault the Authority on efficiency, at least!" Barbara climbed up onto the front of the carriage as she spoke, taking the reins.

"Absolutely," Doug agreed, distracted. The three sat in a row behind their driver, who twitched the reins and set the horse in motion.

"How far is it from the warp pad?" Connie's mother asked.

"It'll take a little more than an hour. Don't worry, it'll fly by."

Connie nudged her mother. "Why don't they have the warp pad closer to the settlement?" she asked quietly.

Priyanka adopted her teaching voice. "Because the gem warp network was constructed by gems for their own purposes, which are unrelated to the locations of our settlements. Regardless of this, they are generous enough to let humans use it when necessary."

Barbara swivelled round in her seat to grin at Connie. "Hey, kid! Connie, right? Don't worry about bothering me with questions! I'm sure you've got lots of questions about this place. Well, we've got nothing but time, so it's no bother."

"Oh! Thank you, ma'am." Connie smiled politely. Then, feeling something was expected of her: "What's it like living here?"

"Eh, it's fine, but it's better to be more specific, you know? What particular thing do you wanna know?"

Connie glanced at her parents, whose faces gave no indication that this was anything other than good-natured banter. "Well... what's it like for you? What do you do in the community?"

Barbara smiled indulgently. "Good question. I assist William Dewey — he's the civic leader — with various things, delivering goods, distributing announcements, and of course escorting folks like your good selves."

Connie blinked. "Gosh. Where we come from, the civic leader didn't need an assistant. Because the settlement was so small, I mean. I've never lived anywhere... big," she finished lamely, opting for a neutral adjective out of residual loyalty to P5T7.

"Oh, well then. I bet we've got a bunch of things in B1C7 that you're not used to. Why don't I list a few and you can stop me if I'm being patronising?" There was an uncertain silence. "Hah! Alrighty then. So obviously we have the education centre, that's two classrooms with a small library. The civic hall has a stage outside for performances. There's a windmill on the hill, processes our grain for us. Let's see, what else..."

Priyanka spoke up: "Our Agate mentioned some manufactories?"

"Oh, yeah, we have a few citizens giving their time to various enterprises for the community. There's tailoring, so if you're patient you can have a few clothes that aren't hand-me-downs. There's a workshop and forge that anyone can use. I mentioned the windmill, and we've a small bakery, so you can get your bread made, and they'll do cakes on special occasions... which reminds me. Not to put you on the spot, but just so you know. Most of the citizens donate some of their allotment space for the manufactories. If you can grow a little cotton, or sugar beet, that'll go a long way for us, 'cause we just can't put those crops in the general rotation."

Priyanka was impassive. "What size are the allotments?"

"Oh, standard, about seventeen yards each side." Barbara looked suddenly uncertain. "Like I said, I don't mean to put you on the spot. It's not compulsory or anything, it's just some people might get a bit..."

"It's fine," Priyanka reassured her. "It all sounds wonderful. I must be honest, when we heard we were moving, a part of me couldn't help worrying that we'd somehow done something wrong. But I know that's just paranoia."

Barbara snorted. "Something wrong? I doubt it! You guys have got one of the best houses in the settlement. Sounds to me more like ya did something right."

A silence fell as they rode past fields of corn which rippled under gusts of wind.

"How have the harvests been, here?" Doug asked after a while.

"Oh, they've been good." Although positive, Barbara's answer lacked the enthusiasm she had shown thus far. "We've not had any major problems — the occasional light year but that's been down to freak weather, I think. There are years when we don't need a subsidy. Certainly there's been no talk of downsizing the settlement. No, we're fine as far as I can tell. Of course, back in the old days..."

Barbara trailed off, and they rode in silence as Connie's mind raced with thoughts of new things. Everything in P5T7 had been so old. Her clothes were cut and stitched together from worn-out dresses, and she had grown up reading the same dozen books which had come with them from her birthplace.

Priyanka broke the silence. "You mentioned freak weather conditions? How severe?"

"Well, nothing crazy. Maybe that was the wrong word. It's pleasant most of the year but some winters we've had snowstorms. What was the weather like in your old home?"

"Comfortable most of the year, too hot in summer. In my opinion."

"I've never seen snow!" Connie exclaimed.

Barbara gave her a wry glance. "Well, when you do it'll be a mixed blessing, believe me. A few years back we had a late cold snap and most of my potatoes were beyond saving. My kid had fun, at least!"

"Oh, you have a child? ...Congratulations," Priyanka added after a moment's hesitation.

"Well, nearly an adult now. As a matter of fact, she'll be in your class."

"I see. I shall look forward to meeting her."

As they crested a hill, settlement B1C7 suddenly came into view, and with it, the ocean. Dozens of buildings were set out in neat squares, bordered on two sides by the turbulent water. Beyond the settlement, a ridge jutted above the beach, on top of which the windmill was silhouetted against the clear sky.

"Home, sweet home," Barbara announced.

"It's huge!" Connie cried. She tried to guess what some of the other buildings were. There was an open square near the centre, which she reasoned might adjoin the civic hall. At the near end of the settlement, a water tower was placed uphill from the other structures. Even this was more impressive than the one back home. Rows of houses could be distinguished along with their adjoining allotments. And to either side of the settlement, the expanse of glittering water looked nigh-endless from this altitude. Connie stared at it in fascination as the slope took them downward.

Barbara exchanged greetings with a couple of passers-by as they neared the bottom of the hill. Seeing the figures of other children in the distance, Connie suddenly became overwhelmed and sank down in her seat, not ready to interact. To her left and right were buildings that had appeared almost like toys when viewed from the crest of the hill. This street alone comprised as many houses as she had ever seen.

Barbara parked the carriage outside some stables, located on a corner of the settlement where the insistent rumble of the ocean could be heard in the distance. Inside the building, a middle-aged man with a bald patch surrounded by unruly long hair was feeding horses. Noticing the cart's arrival, he came out to meet them.

"Hey, Barb. Who have you got here?"

"These are the Maheshwarans — the new teacher and peacekeeper, and their daughter. Greg, you fancy doing me a favour?"

The stableman addressed Connie and her family first. "Pleased to meet you all, I'm Greg. Sure, Barb, what'd you have in mind?"

Barbara leapt down from her seat. "I'm going to show the Maheshwarans around the boardwalk. Could you take the carriage and drop their luggage off at the empty house on Sussex Road?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll drive it back here afterwards and get everything squared away."

Connie's parents got out of the carriage, and Mrs Maheshwaran immediately approached Greg. "Thank you very much, you're most helpful. The largest case contains some books and is quite heavy, so be careful."

"Hey, no problem," the stableman grinned, "I'm tougher than I look."

"Now," Priyanka continued, "the smaller green case contains seeds which are separately packaged, and it would be a disaster if these were to become mixed up, so..." Greg's smile became strained as he found himself on the receiving end of a short lecture on the importance of careful handling.

Connie noted that no such warnings had been issued to the Amethyst who had helped them earlier.

"Come on, kiddo." Her dad was beckoning her. "You ready to see our new settlement?"

Connie found, to her surprise, that she wasn't. Everything so far had been little more than a series of impressions as she was transported through new and dazzling environs. Interacting with them would be a different matter. Now, she would have to immerse herself in the unfamiliar situation and it would all become real.

She focused on her dad's expectant smile, and put her feelings of trepidation to one side. "Let's go," she said, and climbed down from the carriage to begin exploring their new home.


	2. A Gift From The Gems

"Well, that's a shame," Barbara said as they made their way along the wooden walkway by the beach. "It looks like most of the manufactories have shut up shop for the day. I guess I misjudged the time a little."

Mr Maheshwaran dug out his pocket watch. "Looks like I need to adjust this. We must be halfway round the world."

This observation was borne out by the long shadows cast from the buildings along the boardwalk. The manufactories were mostly single-storey structures, coloured in pleasant pastel shades. In some places, weathered brickwork was visible where the stucco had cracked and fallen away. Most of the frontages were adorned with lettering or symbols indicating the building's function. A saw and hammer hung over one of the doors, orange with rust.

Connie contemplated the insistent roar of the ocean. "I've never seen the sea before. They said it's dangerous?"

Barbara shrugged. "Not if you stay on the land. Right here we're raised up, so nobody'll get wet if a freak wave comes in. Just don't wander too far out onto the beach and you'll be fine." She chuckled. "The story goes that people used to go out there in fishing boats, but I can tell you nobody's tried anything that risky in living memory. Fish still wash up on the beach sometimes, though. Here, Mr Pita can tell you all about that. He'll still be open for dinner time."

She led the way to a building marked 'FLATBREADS'. Inside was a cafeteria where a few people sat at wooden tables enjoying exotic-looking meals. On one side of the room a darker-skinned older teenager was leaning nonchalantly on a counter. She looked up with a wry grin. "Hey, Barb — working hard or shirking hard?"

"Ha, ha," Barbara enunciated with good-natured sarcasm. "I'm showing our new neighbours around. This is the Maheshwaran family. Is your dad busy?"

"I don't think so," the girl responded, and without turning round, yelled "DAD! VISITORS!" Several diners were visibly startled.

After a pause, an angry-looking man emerged from a doorway behind the counter. "JENNY! How many times? When people are eating here, YOU DON'T SHOUT!"

Barbara intervened. "Kofi, these are our new neighbours the Maheshwarans. I'm showing them the places where they can get food in the settlement."

Kofi strode toward the family with an enthusiasm that seemed no less aggressive than his abated rage. "Welcome! No need for you to look any further, this is the only place to come for dinner! I make flatbreads of all flavours using a special recipe I brought with me from a disbanded settlement. You won't find this quality anywhere else. Delicious toppings! The choice is yours! What do you say?"

Doug and Priyanka were taken aback. After a moment, Doug ventured: "I take it a flatbread is... what it sounds like?"

"I make the dough to a particular specification! Then we bake the bread with herbs and cheese and vegetables on top. Hey presto, if we change up the ingredients, it's the same process but a different meal! Perfect for sustainability. Name any food, I bet I can get it for you on a flatbread."

"Barbara was telling us to ask you about fish?"

Kofi glared at Barbara. "There are no fish today! Why have you told them this, Mrs Miller? Are you trying to make me look bad!?"

She fixed him with a cool stare. "Spare me the histrionics."

Kofi glanced between the Maheshwarans' confused faces, unsure where to look. He laughed awkwardly. "So we have no fish today! It doesn't matter. Come here whenever you can and I'll make you the fish special just as soon as the ocean's bounty allows it! JENNY!"

Jenny, still at his shoulder, gave a half-hearted flinch. "I'm right here, dad."

"First thing before school tomorrow, you and your sister are beachcombing! I think you have been slacking!"

Priyanka was unable to hide her surprise. "You have two children?"

Kofi became suddenly defensive. "Twins! And they are more trouble than they are worth, I can assure you! Especially this one!" Jenny rolled her eyes as Kofi's temper flared up again. "Aren't you the new teacher? Well, you'll find out for yourself when they are in your classroom! But it's only nature's bounty that cursed me with these disobedient daughters, I assure you!"

Priyanka held her hands up in a placating gesture. "I certainly didn't mean to imply..."

"If you want to get mad at anyone, how about that Fryman character? He has two sons, different ages! And they are good-for-nothing just like him, so you aren't missing much! It's much better for you to have one good child." He leaned over Connie. "Are you a good girl for your hard-working parents?" he asked, not quite managing to adopt a friendly tone.

"I... think so," Connie stuttered, transfixed.

"Ha! Good for you. They sacrifice everything for you, believe me!"

Barbara chose this moment to diplomatically usher the Maheshwarans away from Kofi. "We'd better be moving on, they've had a long journey." Before he could protest, they were back outside.

"Sorry about that," Barbara sighed. "I should have warned you Mr Pita can be a bit highly-strung."

"I'll say," Doug murmured.

"I hope I didn't offend him," Priyanka offered. "I was just surprised."

Barbara looked sympathetic. "Oh, it's all right. I'm sure he knows you didn't mean anything by it. He'll have found someone else to get annoyed with by tomorrow. Speaking of which, I should really show you Mr Fryman's place before we call it a day. I can't have either of them thinking I'd take sides..."

Mr Maheshwaran raised an eyebrow. "Uh, I know we just got here but is there anything I should know about? In a professional capacity?"

"What? Oh!" Barbara chuckled awkwardly. "No, nothing so serious. They just have, I guess you'd say a healthy rivalry. It's never come to blows or anything. It's just a few doors down, ask him yourself if you really want."

She led them to a building with a stable door, the top half of which was ajar. Leaning in, she spoke to somebody inside. "PeeDee, is your dad around?" There was a muffled response, and after a minute or so a middle-aged blond man appeared on the other side of the door, wearing an apron over functional overalls.

"Good afternoon, Barbara. What can I get you?"

She gestured at Connie and her parents. "I'm showing the new neighbours around. I'm sure you'd love to tell them about your manufactory."

Mr Fryman opened the bottom half of the door and stepped out to meet them. "Well, good evening folks. Nice to meet you. I'm guessing you're here to fill the vacancies in the civic administration?" He smiled fondly, as if moved by the concept.

"Something like that," Doug responded.

Mr Fryman seemed momentarily lost in a reverie. Snapping out of it, he clapped his hands together. "Now, do you want the short version or the long version?"

"Uh... how long is the long version?"

"I'll give you the short version first: potatoes." He left a rhetorical pause. "Yes, the humble potato. We grow them, we prepare them and we cook them. And you could be forgiven for thinking that's all there was to it."

Connie was happy enough to play along. "_Is_ that all there is to it, Mr Fryman?"

He leaned down conspiratorially. "Not by a long chalk! What my family and I are engaged in is nothing less than the scientific refinement of food production. I have dedicated myself to finding through experimentation the most efficient means of producing food on a mass scale, for the good of the settlement and for humanity in general. For if we can produce just a bit more food using just a bit less land, then we are one step closer to saving our planet and relieving gemkind of their burden. Also," he concluded, "potatoes are delicious when fried."

"It sounds fascinating," Connie admitted. "Can you really live on just potatoes, though?"

Mr Fryman grimaced. "Well... obviously not, but... they're a versatile staple, and whatever we can learn about their efficient cultivation will be universally applicable for..."

"...other root vegetables?" Priyanka suggested.

"It's very altruistic of you," Doug interjected. "I believe Mr Pita mentioned something about sustainability, too. It's certainly good to see people working hard to tackle the problems facing humanity."

Mr Fryman flinched slightly. "Mr Pita and I have some... differences in opinion about the best approach to B1C7's food security. I'm not aware of him having made any notable labour-saving advances in the bread manufacturing process — at least when compared to, say, the people who built our windmill. But I'm sure we all have a contribution to make, however small."

Mrs Maheshwaran nodded. "Well, I shall be interested to learn more from each of you in the future. It's good to know people are still innovating. What times do you let people in to eat?"

"We're always open," Mr Fryman explained, "but people don't come in to eat. We package up the food and you can continue with your day. Again, it's all about the efficiency of the settlement. I've done a lot of analysis on the matter and this is definitely the way — Kofi is living in the past."

"Keep it positive, Fryman," Barbara sighed.

"Well, that's great," Doug said, blithely. "Anyway, we've had a long journey — Barbara, was there anything else you particularly wanted to show us right now?"

"No, I don't mind calling it a day." She waved to Mr Fryman as he took the hint and retreated to his kitchen. "There'll be plenty of time for you to meet everybody, and you need to rest up and adjust to the time zone. Mr Dewey kind of wants both of you to get straight to work tomorrow. We're in a bit of a bind — the education centre's been without a senior grade teacher for several weeks now, and they're kind of struggling. And, uh, Mr Maheshwaran, he wants to meet with you first thing and bring you up to speed on... well, everything."

Priyanka nodded. "Very well. I'd like to see our new house, anyway."

Barbara led them inland through the streets of B1C7, pointing out the education centre and civic hall on the way. A few people were out enjoying the remains of the day, and watched with interest as the newcomers passed. Finally they arrived at a house which was noticeably larger and in better condition than the home they had departed that morning. Their luggage was sitting just outside the front door.

"I'll let you show yourselves around, it's your home. There's food in the cupboards and a welcome package with some information. Plus a parcel from the gems which they delivered straight to the house. Kind of unusual, but saves me a job, I guess. What else? Oh, the allotment is round the back — I'm afraid it'll probably need a bit of work."

Connie's parents thanked Barbara and they exchanged good-byes, before grabbing their cases and crossing the threshold.

* * *

"Goodness!" Priyanka sighed as she set her case down. "Long day."

Connie took this as a figure of speech, as it hadn't really been a long day at all. The sun was nearing the horizon and she wasn't at all tired. She took in her surroundings. The hallway was painted white, with a couple of colourful pictures on the walls. There was no window, but enough light spilled through from the adjacent rooms and upstairs that it still seemed fairly cheerful.

"May I go and explore the house?" she asked.

"Of course," her mother replied. "I'm sure we'd all like to take a look around."

With a burst of energy, Connie launched into a swift tour of the house. She ran excitedly between rooms, not pausing for long enough to get more than a general impression. There was a drawing room with faded sofas and a fireplace, a kitchen and laundry room with running water, a dining room with seating for six — the stairs clattered as she made her rapid ascent — a master bedroom, a dressing room with a view of the allotment, a bathroom with a shower cubicle, and a smaller bedroom with a desk and shelves with... "Books!" she gasped. There were gaps where the previous occupants must have taken their favourites, but there were still at least a couple of dozen — certainly more than she'd ever possessed before.

(Hadn't Barbara said there was a library at the education centre? How many books were there in the settlement?)

She resolved to defer the pleasure of browsing these volumes, and went back downstairs to find her parents. They were in the dining room looking at the welcome package.

"There are books upstairs," she announced.

"How wonderful. I hope they'll be of value to your education. Your father and I have checked the pantry and there's bread and vegetables in the cupboards, so we won't need to go back out for food tonight. Here, come and have a look at this information about the settlement."

It was fairly comprehensive — the leaflets looked to have been specially typeset, and set out the organisation of the settlement. There was a potted history detailing the construction and improvement of some of the buildings over time — supposedly the windmill was converted from a historic lighthouse more than a hundred years ago. Finally, a hand-drawn map, presumably copied out from an original version somewhere, showed the layout of the settlement and surrounding area. Connie tried to judge the size based on their journey — the warp pad was marked on the map, about three-quarters of the way to the edge in one direction, but there was a larger area over to the left which they had not passed through. It looked as if she could spend quite a long time exploring before reaching the boundary.

"It's very thorough, isn't it?" her mother remarked. "This Mr Dewey must take the job seriously."

Mrs Maheshwaran had never given the impression that she respected Mrs Thompson, the civic leader at settlement P5T7, and Connie had never known whether this was a reflection of the woman or the position. Either way, Connie had never been entirely sure what the purpose of the job was. Mrs Thompson never seemed to do much in the way of leading, beyond giving the occasional speech at festive occasions. Her main interpretation of the role seemed to be to do less work than everyone else at harvest time. Perhaps the leader here was a bit more dynamic.

Finally they turned their attention to the gem parcel, addressed to them in the gems' neat but disproportionate interpretation of human script. Inside was a basket with an eclectic mix of food: some containers of dried noodles, jars of honey, preserved vegetables, and most alluring of all... "Gemfruits!" Connie exclaimed.

"How unusual! ...But generous," Mr Maheshwaran quickly added.

Connie emptied the fist-sized synthetic berries onto the table and began sorting them by colour, in a tradition dating back to her early childhood. Each colour had a unique flavour, impossible to relate to any naturally-grown food, but delicious nonetheless. As she got older, though, her enjoyment of the treat became gradually diminished by her growing awareness that they only received the fruits when they had failed to grow enough food for the settlement. The once-loved treat had become a bittersweet reminder of humanity's failure. Now, the prospect of guilt-free gemfruits had her feeling giddy.

"It's all stuff that will last," Priyanka observed.

Connie eagerly seized on the point. "We should save it! We should have a bit every week so it lasts. It's not hoarding if it's a gift from the gems... is it?" She looked at her parents, appealing.

Doug smiled. "It should be fine."

They enjoyed a modest supper, then packed the rest of the food away and settled in the drawing room to discuss the events of the day. Connie perched on the threadbare sofa, facing a wind-up clock which had run flat and was stuck at twenty to five.

"What do you think of our new settlement so far, Connie?" her dad asked.

"It seems really nice." Connie gazed across at a painting of a bucolic scene which was partially illuminated by the dying light of day. "I'm a bit nervous for school tomorrow. What do you think the other children will be like?"

"I'm sure they'll be well-behaved," Priyanka replied. "Don't forget, I'll be teaching the older children, so I won't be far away if there's any trouble."

Connie was glad her mom wouldn't be teaching her class, but decided it would be best to take this to her grave. "I hope Jenny Pita and her sister don't disrupt your class. Mr Pita seemed to think they were badly-behaved, but do you think he was exaggerating?"

Doug laughed. "Now he was a character! I thought he was going to bite your head off, Pri."

Priyanka looked glum. "I'm afraid I was rather impolite. It was just that I'd never met anyone with siblings. I should really have kept it to myself, though."

Given her mother's acknowledged faux-pas, Connie dared to voice her own curiosity. "I've read about twins in storybooks, but I didn't know they were real."

"Yes — it's very rare, but I've certainly known people who said they'd met twins."

Connie took this in. "And Mr Fryman has two children that aren't twins? I didn't know that was possible either."

"Neither did I," her mother admitted. "Well, you'd have to be Choosened twice, I suppose. But I'd never heard of it happening until today."

"To be honest, it's reassuring in a way," Doug opined.

His wife stared at him in wordless enquiry.

He shrugged. "Did you ever wonder if it was really, truly random? Of all things, this convinces me it is."

* * *

The room had a pair of waxlights on opposite walls, and they lit one of them as the sun set. For a while, they chatted about the possibilities opened up to them by this new settlement's facilities.

"Maybe I could get some new clothes made," Connie suggested.

Her mother looked doubtful. "That's all very well, but you're liable to get taller again, and then where will we be?"

"But I'll need something to wear in the winter-time, right?"

Priyanka was unmoved. "You can wear your dungarees with a jacket over your shirt when it gets cold."

"Oh, go on," Connie wheedled. "I can hardly wear the same dungarees all winter."

Her mom gave her an appraising glower. "Show me you can go more than a couple of weeks without damaging your existing clothes and we'll think about it."

Connie sat back in satisfaction at this hard-earned victory. Still, it represented no guarantee. She glanced down at the series of overlapping patches which comprised much of the front of her long shorts. These coincided with the respective positions of her knees as she had grown into them. (They had once been more akin to short longs.)

Eventually, Mr Maheshwaran looked at his pocket watch. "Connie, why don't you head upstairs? I know it's going to be hard to sleep, but you should try and get some rest until tomorrow. I'm sure you'll want to make a good impression."

Connie hugged her parents good-night, and went up to her new room. She lit the waxlight to unpack her nightclothes from the case, and decided to have a quick look through the bookshelves before her parents came up. There were some rather dry reference books about agriculture and manufacturing, next to a dictionary which covered the letters A to M (its companion volume being conspicuously absent.) On the shelf above, there were some books of fiction, some definitely old and some newer-looking. _Robinson Crusoe_ looked to be an older title, along with _Don Quixote_. Next to this one were two newer volumes, different in size, both entitled _The New Adventures of Don Quixote_. A brief look at each revealed no author attribution, but the text was clearly different.

This theme continued with _The New and Further Adventures of Lemuel Gulliver_, and _The New Adventures of Tristram Shandy_, neither of which were accompanied by the novels they were presumably continuations of.

Another title caught her eye: _The Adventures of Millicent Among the Gems_. It looked to be a speculative work about gem society, with the protagonist an orphaned girl who was taken to live among gem royalty. Again, the work was anonymous, and Connie wondered whether it could have been written by a resident of the settlement. Perhaps one day she could write a book of her own and have it bound...

Maybe it would be best to leave the books alone for now if she wanted to get any rest. Her mind was racing as it was. She extinguished the light, lay in the bed and tried to think sleepy thoughts. It took conscious effort to keep her eyes closed, and it was difficult to find a comfortable position on the unfamiliar mattress.

Eventually she realised she was thirsty, and decided to creep downstairs for a glass of water.

In the kitchen, she selected a tall glass and opened the tap. A little sediment came through before the water ran clear, and she angled the glass to fill it quietly. She took an experimental sip: the water was cool and refreshing, and she drank until her thirst was quenched. She filled the glass again to take it upstairs.

As she passed the door to the drawing room she could hear her parents still talking quietly. Something about her father's tone made her stop and eavesdrop.

"...just too much about it that doesn't add up. I mean, tell me it's not just me."

"No, I agree it's not usual."

"Where is the old teacher? Where's the old peacekeeper? What was so urgent that they had to be moved without any notice?"

Connie had overheard conversations between her parents in the past, and they had never carried this strained urgency.

"We don't know that they had **no** notice..."

"Weeks ago, she said. I'd lay a bet that it was the same time we got our letter."

"Doug, please calm down. I'm on your side."

"I know, it's just... oh, it's all making me anxious. I've been on edge since we first got here. Did you notice what she said?"

"Who, the Miller woman?"

"'You can't fault the Diamond Authority on efficiency.'" An incredulous pause. "What was that supposed to mean? What _can_ you fault them on? Who talks like that to somebody they've just met?"

"That's... that could be a little paranoid. It may just have been a poorly-chosen phrase."

"Maybe, but I'm seeing reasons to be paranoid. What's been going on here, and why have the gems sent us here? Why that food package? What do they want from us?"

Mrs Maheshwaran sighed. "I get that it's some sort of message. A note would have been better."

Mr Maheshwaran's nervous energy was apparently depleted, and he continued in a more measured tone. "I just think we should be very careful who we associate with until we know what's been going on in this settlement."

"Agreed. I'll keep my ears open for any unusual talk in the classroom..."

"What about Connie?" There was a brief silence before her dad elaborated. "She's going to be off on her own in the junior grade. I don't want her getting mixed up in anything untoward."

Another pause. "I don't think we should say anything to Connie. It would just worry her. She's never met other children before — let her be a child while she can."

With herself now the subject of conversation, Connie didn't dare listen to any more. She tiptoed unsteadily up the stairs with the water glass clutched between her trembling hands, and shut herself in her room, any hope of sleep extinguished.


	3. Ancient History

Daylight and birdsong intruded themselves on Connie's awareness. She opened her eyes and began to take stock of the situation. First, there was the vexing matter of her bed. It seemed to be in the wrong location, pushed up against a wall which shouldn't have been there. As the faded wallpaper came into focus, she realised it was because she was in the wrong house. Her real bed was all the way back in settlement P5T7, and this one was going to take some getting used to.

She had a distinct idea that she'd been awake all night, but the fact that she'd just woken up seemed to refute this. How long had she lain there at the mercy of tumultuous thoughts? Had she dozed at times without realising, and been left with an illusory memory of consciousness? She was tired, but somehow without the desire to go back to sleep — as if she had gone beyond tiredness and emerged through the dream world into a kind of hyper-reality. Mechanically, she swung her legs out of the bed and stood up for a moment, but then dropped back down to sit on the mattress. Today was going to be an effort.

She eyed her case, which was yet to be unpacked. What was the immediate plan? She should pick out some clothes, wash and get dressed, go downstairs to eat something and check in with her parents.

...Her parents. Last night's troubled meditations began replaying themselves.

Connie's parents were worried about something, and the knowledge of this was weighing heavily on her. The vagueness of their concerns only heightened her anxiety. Somehow, something had to be deeply and fundamentally wrong. As far as she could understand, it had something to do with this settlement, and the people living here. What if some of them weren't good people? How would Connie be able to tell?

She'd turned it over and over in her head all night, and the best plan she could come up with was to try and act normal, but secretly keep an eye out for any unusual behaviour. If something seemed wrong, she would tell her parents. Except it would have to be something _really_ wrong — otherwise, her making a point of mentioning it might tip them off that she had listened to their conversation in the first place.

With this decided upon, she made another attempt to get up. This time she was successful, and she excavated some clothes from her case before heading downstairs via the dressing room.

Her parents were in the kitchen preparing a breakfast of bread and cheese with some preserved fruit. "Good morning, Connie," her mother said. "I was just going to come and wake you. Were you able to get much sleep?"

"Not a huge amount," Connie admitted.

"I'm a bit out of it this morning myself," her dad reassured. "Don't worry, nobody's going to judge you on it. I'd say it'll take us a few days to get used to the time difference. The bad news is: after that, people are free to judge us!"

"It's a bit early in the morning for your jokes, Dad," she chided, grinning.

Priyanka gnawed on a piece of bread. "I need to get to the education centre early so I can find out what they've been teaching. Can you remember where it is, Connie? Will you be all right making your own way there?"

"It's fine, Mom. I can double check with the map before I set out." Connie was secretly pleased with this development. She was apprehensive about meeting the other children at the education centre, but couldn't shake the notion that it would be preferable to make her first impression while distant from her mother's shadow.

"Good news, kiddo," her father announced. "I've wound the clock in the drawing room, and I think I even got the right time. I never found an opportunity to set my watch yesterday, though, so it's always possible I've got it muddled."

"Nice work, dad."

"The worst case is, we all go out an hour late. Or an hour early."

"Oh, no big deal at all, then," replied Connie, playing along.

"I'm going to head out," Priyanka abruptly announced, finishing a glass of water. "Have a good day, both of you. Connie, perhaps I'll see you there." They exchanged businesslike embraces and she hurried outside.

Connie sat with her dad in the dining room for breakfast. She eyed him warily as he spread preserve across a piece of bread. If she didn't know better, she wouldn't have thought he had a care in the world. Whatever agreement he and her mom had come to last night, he was clearly a hundred percent committed to not worrying her.

That was how she preferred to think of it. Not that they had chosen to deceive her.

"There's a parcel of food on the kitchen worktop," he told her. "I'm not sure what they do for lunch at the education centre. They probably let the kids go home to eat. But I made you some eggs-in-bread to take if you like. That way, if you're having a good time and nobody else is going home, you could stay there for lunch with the other children."

"Thanks, dad," she smiled.

* * *

Connie was followed part of the way down the street by a chicken. She had a brief vision of herself arriving at the education centre followed by a growing procession of hens, but fortunately the bird soon lost interest and returned to pecking at the dirt. Her journey took her past the civic hall, and she noticed a large clock on the side of the building. Reassuringly, it confirmed the time shown in their drawing room.

A cart passed her by on its way from the stables. The men in the back waved at her, and she raised a hand politely in response. They had axes and saws with them in the cart, and were likely going to cut wood.

Finally she approached the education centre. From a distance she could see a few kids outside. Some younger-looking children were running around playing some sort of game. Connie was relieved to note that their outfits all had a similar patchwork quality to hers.

A blond kid — possibly closer to her own age, but still noticeably shorter than her — was leaning against the wall, looking bored. As the other children seemed absorbed in their play, she decided to approach him and introduce herself.

"Good morning. My name is Connie." _(Too formal?)_

The boy didn't exactly muster enthusiasm, but he stood up straighter and replied in a tone that implied solidarity if not politeness. "Hi there. My name's PeeDee. So you're one of the people who was moved here yesterday, huh."

"That's right. I've never lived anywhere like this before. It's very interesting."

"Huh." He blinked. "Sorry, that's just a new concept to me. B1C7... interesting."

Connie wasn't certain how old PeeDee was, but he definitely seemed more world-weary than she could remember being at any age. _Perhaps he's just not a morning person,_ she thought.

Hoping to keep the conversation going, she continued: "Your name sounds familiar. Do you work at the potato manufactory? We visited there briefly last night."

"Yeah, my family runs the place. It's kinda hard work. But my dad and brother are dedicated to the science of it, so I guess you've got to respect that."

"Does your... brother come to lessons here too?"

PeeDee shuddered. "Oh, man. Yeah, he's in the senior grade, but we've all been in the same classes for the last few weeks. So thank the Diamonds you guys are here and we can go back to having separate classes. It's been insufferable."

"I... sorry, I hope this isn't an impolite question. But I thought that you would be quite close, as siblings?"

PeeDee held his hands up. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Ronaldo's fine. He's just a bit... he's very forthcoming with his opinions about stuff. And I see him all the time at home and at the manufactory, so I'd prefer not to have that all day in class as well. Plus, no offence to Mrs Lezner, but she is not up to teaching a mixed-age group. It's been total chaos."

"What's the class like normally? I've never been to an education centre," Connie explained.

PeeDee shrugged. "It's fine." He nodded toward the other children, who were taking it in turns to trip each other over. "Sometimes Onion and his friends get a bit disruptive. As far as the actual lessons go... yeah. Reading, writing, 'rithmetic. Can't deny their usefulness, although it does start to get old after the five-hundredth time or so. As for the rest, I'd take it with a grain of salt if I were you. The whole education system is a bit of a farce if you ask me." Catching her bewildered expression, he hastily added, "Uh, but that's just one boy's opinion."

"What's wrong with education?" Connie pressed him.

He looked a little worried. "I just meant that a lot of it's irrelevant to the practical skills that we're going to rely on when we're grown up. And there's a real lack of emphasis on science, which my dad says is the one discipline most crucial for humanity's betterment." He shrugged. "Maybe Mrs Lezner just doesn't know much science."

Connie decided to change the subject before her mental image of Mrs Lezner was diminished any further. "When does class begin?"

"Any time from now, really. We might as well go in." He led the way past the younger kids, one of whom was presumably Onion. It was not unheard of for people to be named after crops, although it struck Connie as rather old-fashioned.

The small atrium inside was lined with three doors. The sign on the door opposite the main entrance proclaimed it to be the library, with the others leading to the two classrooms. They entered the door on the left into a high-ceilinged room with multitudinous tall windows along the opposite wall. Rows of tables and benches faced a blackboard and desk at the front, where a neatly-dressed woman with shoulder-length brown hair sat perusing some papers. A small number of children were already seated in the classroom, and looked up with interest at her arrival.

Unsure of protocol, Connie approached the teacher. "Good morning. I'm Connie Maheshwaran."

Mrs Lezner stood up and shook her hand. "Good morning, Connie. Welcome to my classroom. I've just been speaking to your mother — she speaks highly of you as a student."

"Oh! Er, thank you. I mean, I should thank her."

Mrs Lezner smiled. "Please take a seat. I may call on you during the lesson, so I can find out where you are up to with some of the subjects."

Most of the benches were empty, and it didn't seem like the classroom would be anything close to full even when the last few kids came in. This made sense, if they'd previously fit a whole second class into the room at the same time. Connie took a seat near PeeDee, as he was the only student she was acquainted with at this point.

She looked around the room. On the left of the blackboard there was a poster showing the alphabet in upper and lower case. To the right there was what looked like a map of the settlement. Along the wall to their right was a battered upright pianoforte with some sheet music on display. Above the pianoforte was a head-and-shoulders portrait of Pink Diamond, depicted with a subdued yet friendly smile.

After a couple of minutes the younger kids filed in and sat at the rear of the class. Mrs Lezner stood and faced her students.

"Good morning, class. You may have noticed we have a new student with us this morning. Her name is Connie, and I want you to make her feel welcome in settlement B1C7."

Without ceremony, Mrs Lezner turned and began writing arithmetic questions on the blackboard. "Let's start the day with some mathematics to warm your brains up." She began picking on students in turn to answer the questions — it appeared slightly unfair as some were more difficult than others, but perhaps she was basing it on knowledge of the students' relative skill levels. Halfway through, she addressed Connie with a fairly difficult division question. Although not at her most alert this morning, Connie couldn't resist reading ahead on the board and trying to find the solutions, so she was half a step ahead.

"The answer is nineteen, Mrs Lezner," she answered after a pause.

Mrs Lezner smiled shrewdly. "Very good indeed, Connie. Onion, what's eleven times eleven?" A silence. "Very well then. PeeDee, would you care to help him?"

So the lesson continued, until Mrs Lezner reached the end of the board and moved on to a spelling quiz. Again, the words varied in length and obscurity, and Connie found herself on the receiving end of some of the more difficult questions. The final one, 'obstreperous', she had never seen written down or even heard in a sentence, but somehow managed to intuit the correct spelling. Mrs Lezner gave her an approving nod that seemed almost conspiratorial. Presumably all of this was in aid of establishing whether Connie's mother had exaggerated her academic progress.

"Well done, everybody," Mrs Lezner said. "Now, let's have a short music break and then it's time for a history lesson." She strode to the pianoforte, sat down, and began hammering out a bracing tune. After a few bars she began singing a song, most of the class joining in with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Connie, unfamiliar with the lyrics, just listened. 

_Fields of gold and skies of blue_  
_ Tilled and sowed and picked by hand_  
_ Watched while seasons turn anew_  
_ Daily we respect the land_

_Trees of green and clouds of white_  
_ Ripened fruit on solid bough_  
_ Sheltered from the dark of night_  
_ We offer up our solemn vow_

_Day and night we shall not rest_  
_ Embodying our truest worth_  
_ Fulfilling our sacred quest_  
_ To bring Arcadia back to Earth._

Mrs Lezner finished with a musical flourish and returned to the front of the class. "Very good, children. Now, Connie. I'm sorry to pick on you so much for your first day, but perhaps you could tell us a little about what you've learned about history, and we can see how it compares with some of the other students. How does that sound?"

Connie was in the middle of discreetly dissipating a full-body yawn. She guessed that if she'd stayed in bed this morning, she'd now be in a very deep sleep. She blinked a few times and recovered her composure. "What would you like me to talk about, Mrs Lezner?"

"Well, let's see. To start with, can you tell us how long the gems have been protecting humanity?"

Connie thought about this for a moment. "Well... doesn't it depend on what you mean?" This earned her a quizzical look. "Uh, what I mean is that the gems have existed for all of recorded history, so you could say they were protecting us the whole time. But if you meant when the gems intervened directly to save us, then it was nearly two hundred and fifty years ago."

Mrs Lezner nodded. "That's an interesting response. It wasn't supposed to be a trick question, but since the gems intervened when it was necessary, I suppose it's true it could have happened any time during history... and so in a way, just by observing us, the gems were protecting us even then. What have you been taught about that era of history? In relation to the gems?"

"As far as I know from what books I've read, humanity mostly stayed away from the gems and from the areas they lived in. A lot of early civilisations thought they were gods, because they were so much more advanced."

"That's correct — in fact, that's a subject we've covered recently in class. PeeDee, can you remember how the gems responded?"

PeeDee answered politely but without enthusiasm. "The gems let people think they were gods because they had built temples and palaces that were dangerous places for people to go, so it was easier to keep them away if they thought that."

"Correct. Connie, can you tell us why these places were unsafe?"

"I... yes, but can I just say that that last bit was different to what I was taught? I thought the gems explained to the ancient humans not to worship them."

Mrs Lezner tapped excitedly on the blackboard, and began to clear part of it so she could write something. "That's very interesting, Connie, and don't worry about not having the same answer. This gives us an opportunity to learn about how history is studied." She finished writing the word 'SOURCES'. "By its very nature, a lot of what we learn about history is, in a way, hearsay. What I mean is that I can only teach you what was taught to me when I was a child. So as we see right now, it's possible to find different interpretations of history. How do we know which to believe? Obviously the people from back then are long gone, so we can't ask them directly. But if we have what's called a source, then we can have a better idea. Does anybody know what I mean by a source?"

A girl in the front row put her hand up. "You could ask a gem?"

Mrs Lezner hesitated. "That... no, that's not quite what I... we can't ask the gems, because even if they were there, they wouldn't necessarily know every single thing that happened when it's human history."

Connie couldn't help herself. "This would be a question specifically about gem history, though..."

Mrs Lezner was getting frustrated. "Yes, but the whole point is... look, that would be relying on the gems to solve our problems. Every day we try to show we don't have to be reliant on them, and stand on our own two feet, so this is just... part and parcel. No, what we need is a source, that is, a book or some other evidence which is from the time we're talking about and wasn't written in the last two hundred and fifty years. The problem is, of course, that a lot of these texts have been lost, or we just don't have a copy here, so we can't always be sure. So in this case the question is: is there a source stating the gems were worshipped? Or is there another one saying they told humans not to worship them?"

They looked at her expectantly. "The truth is, I don't know. This could be a project for the class. We'll look at old books in the library, and you can look at the books in your homes or your neighbours' homes, and maybe we can find a source mentioning this question. My own suspicion," she continued, "is that the truth may lie somewhere in between the two versions. Perhaps the gems let the earliest, most primitive humans believe what they wanted if it kept them safe, but chose to be more open with us as time passed. After all," she chuckled, "you and I know they aren't gods!"

She scrubbed the word from the blackboard. "Now, for many years humans and gems lived side by side without any problems. But as time went on, things began to go wrong with how humans were treating the planet and each other. Who can give me an example of something we were doing wrong? PeeDee? Sit up straight, PeeDee."

PeeDee mimed acquiescence. "War," he drawled.

"That's right. Humans were hurting each other for no good reason, which made the gems very unhappy. Anyone else? I'd like three more examples."

"Over-farming?" one of the younger boys hazarded.

"Yes. Connie, can you tell us what you know about over-farming?"

Connie was very much ready for a break, but tried to remain attentive. "Using too much land for farming, not leaving fields fallow for long enough... wasting land on luxury crops that depleted soil nutrients..." She trailed off, hoping this was enough.

Mrs Lezner nodded. "Good, yes, very thorough. We haven't gotten on to the science of agriculture yet, but it's certainly something you'll all learn about in the senior grade. But the short version is, you can't just keep growing crops on the same land. You need to let the land recover by leaving it to nature for at least a year. We call this leaving the field fallow. In the old days, farmers didn't leave the land fallow for long enough, and over the years, areas of land gradually became useless for farming and couldn't be recovered... yes, PeeDee?"

PeeDee had his hand up. "And the gems knew about this?"

"Well, gems don't need to eat, so they didn't necessarily need to know everything about plants. But as they became aware of what was happening to the planet, they saw that they needed to step in and help. Now, come on, two more things. Anyone? Onion?" Silence. "No? Anyone else?"

The girl in the front row hesitantly raised her hand. "Pollution," she said.

"Very good. Even though everything humans have ever needed can be found or grown on the land, our ancestors insisted on digging into the ground and mining for toxic metals and dirty fuels. In the old human cities, people could hardly breathe from the poisonous smoke in the air. And by ransacking the earth for nonessential resources, they only contributed to the ruin that was befalling the land. Now, one more thing that contributed to humanity's problems? I'll give you a clue: it's something that helped to cause the wars and the over-farming."

"Overpopulation?" Connie found herself saying.

Mrs Lezner pointed triumphantly at her. "Very well done again, Connie. We live on a small planet, and yet there were millions and millions of people, wasting the planet's resources and fighting over the land that they hadn't already spoiled. People would sail in boats around the world to find new territory, and fight to take it from whoever was already living there. All this time, instead of trying to solve any of their problems, they focused their energy on developing new and worse ways to hurt each other. Eventually the gems realised that humanity was going to destroy itself if they didn't do something."

She walked to the blackboard and began erasing everything. "You've all been very good. This seems like a good time to take a break. Go out and play and I'll see you all in a little while."

The students got up and began filing out. As Connie approached the door, Mrs Lezner came over and patted her arm. "Very good work this morning, Connie. I can see you've been an attentive student in your old home. I promise I won't be singling you out this much every day, now that I've got an idea of your level. But don't let me stop you — have fun and get to know some of the other students."

"Thanks, Mrs Lezner," Connie replied, and headed outside.

* * *

PeeDee and a few of the other kids were hanging around near the front wall. Onion and his friends had already run off down the street. Connie joined the kids by the building to listen in on their conversation, which seemed mostly focused on debating which was their least favourite type of mathematical question. (Division was particularly unpopular.)

After a minute, PeeDee noticed Connie's awkward hovering and introduced her to the other kids. She realised as he was finishing that she had failed to memorise any of their names.

"How many gems have you met?" they asked her.

"Hardly any," Connie admitted. "Until yesterday, anyway. A few Amethysts and I'd seen a Zircon, but never spoke to her. But yesterday we met a Ruby and an Agate."

They nodded appreciatively, as connoisseurs. "Sometimes a Peridot comes here to make sure we're eating enough," the girl from the front row announced, then giggled. "I think she thinks humans are strange. She kept looking away when she was supposed to be checking my teeth."

"I've never seen a Peridot," Connie replied. "What are they like?"

A shrug. "Green. Kind of thin."

They were interested in learning about settlement P5T7, to Connie's chagrin. She assumed it would seem boring compared to B1C7, but was surprised to find they devoured whatever details she was able to provide. It now occurred to her that none of them had ever moved settlement, and she suddenly felt special for having come here from another place.

"Did they have the machines to stop you going beyond the settlement boundary?"

Connie shuddered. "Yes. Gosh, I only saw them once. Those flying things? I walked out too far once when I was a little kid, but I was too scared to ever go back after those things yelled at me."

PeeDee exchanged glances with the other kids. "We... well, sometimes we go out and bother them, for a joke. I mean, it's not as scary in a group." (Despite PeeDee's tact, Connie was kicking herself for her admission of cowardice.) "It's kind of funny when you can figure out where the border is. Then, every time one of those things comes flying at you, you can just step back and it carries on hovering round at random like it forgot you even existed."

"It's not dangerous," one of the other kids assured her. "The worst that can happen is, Lars, he's one of the older kids, one time he accepted a dare and ran past it beyond the outer perimeter, and after a few minutes a big gem came and told him off and brought him back home."

"She told his **parents**," front-row girl said, solemnly disapproving of this betrayal.

"Well," Connie said, "that sounds pretty dangerous if you have my parents. So I probably won't be trying that."

This was a cue for them to take it in turns to air a few grievances about the general indignity of being parented, some of which struck Connie as exaggerated. Particularly paradoxical were PeeDee's twin complaints of having to work in his father's potato manufactory, and not getting to work there as much as his brother. Still, she chose not to question it and to just appreciate the opportunity to bond with her peers.

* * *

Eventually Mrs Lezner called them back in. Onion and the younger kids were already seated, it being entirely unclear how and when they had entered the building.

"We were talking about ancient history," Mrs Lezner announced as they settled down. "So, two hundred and fifty years ago, the gems decided to save humanity. Who do we have to thank for their intervention?"

"Pink Diamond," the children chorused. This was evidently well-worn educational territory.

"Correct. Pink Diamond is a very powerful gem, and used her influence to advocate on our behalf. Always remember, the gems didn't have to help us but did so out of kindness. So they met with humanity's leaders, told them what they had been doing wrong, and explained how Pink Diamond could put us back on the right track." Mrs Lezner regarded the students. "Who were these leaders? Can anybody tell me their names? Onion?"

As usual, there was no response.

"Well done!" she exclaimed, triumphant. "That was, of course, a trick question. Humanity's leaders selfishly rejected Pink Diamond's offer. They acted against the interests of their own subjects, out of sheer greed and cruelty. They were the ones who had been making themselves rich and powerful by exploiting the poorest and most hungry. They would have doomed everybody. So of course, as punishment, their names were wiped from history."

PeeDee put his hand up. "Mrs Lezner? If the gems were going to intervene no matter what, why did they even talk to the leaders?"

Mrs Lezner sighed. "PeeDee, we went over this last time. I wish you'd pay more attention. Pink Diamond didn't do anything against humanity's wishes. She recognised that the rulers didn't truly represent their people, and so the gems took their message to the general population of humans, the ones who were suffering and watching their lands fall to ruin. They accepted Pink Diamond's offer unanimously. To be protected and watched over by the gems, until such time as the planet recovers."

She picked up an old book from her desk, flipping through it before setting it back down. "Not many records survive from that period. It was a huge undertaking. The Diamond Authority carried out a census of every single human on the planet, fitting them with organic regulators and determining which areas needed to be evacuated. It's not surprising that a lot was lost in the upheaval. But we do know that within a generation, the positive results were obvious. No more disease. No more being crammed into huge polluted cities where nobody knows each other's name. We returned to a way of life that had sustained us for thousands of years before things started to go wrong. And that's the world you've been born into. It's easy to take for granted, but I want you to think about it. Maybe we should all write some short stories about what our lives could have been like without the gems. What might be different?"

"Diseases," one of the students piped up.

"Well done," Mrs Lezner replied, not acknowledging that the answer was something she'd only just mentioned. "Who can tell me what it was like to have a disease?"

Connie volunteered. "There were lots of different diseases that all had different effects. But a lot of them caused pain or... uh, digestive problems."

"Can you imagine it?" Mrs Lezner addressed the class. "Being in pain all the time, seemingly for no reason? What's worse, people could even die just from having a disease. Even children weren't safe. Nobody really knew where these diseases came from, or how to cure them. But Pink Diamond found a way to infuse gem technology with her power. Now, the same regulator that helps you get better if you hurt yourself is protecting you all the time from diseases, and making sure you live a long and happy life."

"Where _did_ the diseases come from?" PeeDee asked.

Mrs Lezner hesitated slightly. "Well, we think some of them were just in the air. You could get them by being around other people who had them, so it didn't help living in overpopulated cities. A lot of humanity's scientific ideas back then were just wrong, so it's hard to say for sure." She brightened up, pressing onwards. "Really this all leads us to another major difference. Families used to have a lot more children, and this was partly because of this risk of people dying tragically young. But when two parents have three or more children, you don't have to be a mathematician to see the problem. The population growth was exponential. More and more people were having to share fewer and fewer resources. The gems made things fair by regulating the birth rate through the Choosening system."

Connie found herself staring blankly at the empty seats in the next row. She was feeling the lack of sleep again.

"Couples who want a child simply register their interest with the Diamond Authority," Mrs Lezner was saying, "and the gems analyse the resources and population profiles of the various settlements and assign births accordingly... please put your hand down, PeeDee, the details will be covered in senior grade."

Connie's mind wandered. It was a good point Mrs Lezner had made about taking things for granted. She never really given much thought to the organic regulator which she'd had since birth. And yet there it was, monitoring and regulating every aspect of her frail biology. When an elderly resident had passed away in settlement P5T7, some gems had attended the funeral service, and after waiting at a respectful distance for the speeches to end, had solemnly conveyed the body away. Were the regulators recycled? Was she host to a machine that had helped dozens before her?

She had an idea PeeDee was making fun of the teacher, without being so overt as to amuse anybody but himself. There was an element of casual irony in the delivery of his questions, most of which, it seemed, Mrs Lezner either deflected or ignored. Connie had never really dealt with any authority figures outside of her parents (and, notably, Moss Agate,) but she could sense something amiss in his attitude on an almost subconscious level. As if he felt there was nothing Mrs Lezner could teach him that he didn't already know — hadn't he implied as much this morning? So were these rhetorical questions? And if so, in service of what point?

She knew what it was to ask questions with no real answers. In the run-up to the move, she'd had several. _Why do we have to go? Why don't we get to choose where we go? Why don't we get to find out until we've already left?_ Sure, she was given answers that fulfilled a kind of surface logic, but there was something hollow and unsatisfying about them. So often, the answer boiled down to: the gems know best.

_They are an advanced species. If they do something we cannot understand, the problem is with us._

She glanced at the portrait of Pink Diamond, guilty. Pink Diamond loved all humans, and was an advocate for their wellbeing. There had to be a good reason for everything, and it was wrong to imagine otherwise.

In a sudden panic, Connie realised she hadn't been paying attention to the class for several minutes. Mrs Lezner was talking about their writing assignment. "It doesn't have to be long, or have a complicated story. Just a sketch of what you think life might have been like back then. You could take inspiration from any old books you might have access to, or in the library. I'll check in a few days how everyone's getting on, so don't rush."

A thought struck Connie, and she put her hand up. "Mrs Lezner?"

"Yes, Connie?"

"What if instead of the past, I wrote something about what it will be like in the future, when we no longer need the gems' protection?"

Mrs Lezner was momentarily dumbstruck. "Well... that... that might be interesting. I suppose I can't see why not. If you prefer, you could write a story about that, yes. The same goes for the rest of you."

At this, they broke for lunch, and Mrs Lezner instructed the class to return in an hour or so. Following the other children outside, Connie paused to let out a yawn that felt like it would never end, and hoped the meal her dad had packed would give her sufficient energy to make it through the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Lezner is not an original character; she has been appropriated from the 'Too Cool For School' comic. I am not introducing OCs where I can possibly avoid it.
> 
> Thanks to those who have left comments thus far. While I can't yet discuss aspects of plot or worldbuilding outside of the text, be assured that all will become clear. (Or at least, less unclear.)


	4. On The Folly Of Insects

A few of the kids from the senior grade were already loitering outside when Connie's class exited the building, and a portly blond boy immediately broke off from talking to a classmate to approach them.

"Hey, PeeDee! Is this the new girl?"

"Um... yeah," PeeDee replied, not quite concealing his annoyance at the pointlessness of the question. "Connie, this is my brother Ronaldo."

Ronaldo started talking at Connie before she could speak. "I look forward to hearing about your journey here! Anything we can learn about the world outside the settlement is precious information. Plus, anything you've learned about farming and production techniques in your previous home could supplement our knowledge here. The resettlement of humans is our best chance to consolidate our accumulated wisdom, and this represents a valuable opportunity!"

"Um, pleased to meet you too," Connie interjected as he paused for breath.

"Hey!" a voice interrupted. A skinny jug-eared youth was approaching with a stocky blonde girl in tow. He glared at Connie. "Your mom is our new teacher, right? Well, thanks a bunch! She's a real hard case, this morning's been no fun at all!"

Connie was indignant. "What? How on earth is that my fault?"

The blonde teen tugged on her companion's shirt. "Stop being rude, Lars. You know she didn't choose to come here."

Connie recognised the name. "You're Lars? Are you the boy who ran out into the wilderness?"

He was suddenly defensive. "You heard about that? What did they tell you? Because I didn't cry, I just..."

"What was it like out there? How far did you get?"

Lars calmed down, and approximated bravado. "Oh, well, I probably got about a mile out before they had to pick me up and spoil it. But there isn't anything interesting out there, anyway, it's just dirt and rocks. Like, if you think fields are boring, which they are, then this is even worse." He lowered his voice, muttering to himself. "Nothing to do in this stupid place or out of it..."

The girl who had been following Lars extended her hand, laughing awkwardly. "Hi, I'm Sadie. Don't mind him, he just got out of the wrong side of bed... for the past ten years or so. For what it's worth, I think your mom seems like a pretty good teacher."

"Ha ha, thanks!" Connie shook Sadie's hand for too long, desperate to change the subject. "So... what does everybody do for lunch?"

"Well..." (Sadie prised her hand from Connie's grip,) "...most kids just go home. The Pita twins usually head to their dad's manufactory for a bite — same with Ronaldo and PeeDee there. Sometimes it's possible to swing an invite if you don't mind helping out for a bit. Me, my mom always insists on packing me a lunch so if the weather's nice I usually go to the shore to eat."

Connie produced a soggy-edged parcel of wax paper from her pocket. "You'll have to tell me where the best view is..."

Ronaldo laughed heartily at a nonexistent joke as he contrived his way back into the conversation. "Yes, everybody certainly enjoys lunch! But Connie, surely you're interested in touring our food production facilities and learning more about the exciting world of food science. You can easily bring your lunch and decide whether you'd rather eat whatever that is or a delicious potatoey..."

"Ronaldo!" PeeDee interrupted, glaring at his brother. "Don't rush Connie! She's only just got here. There'll be plenty of time for showing her round." He gestured meaningfully at Connie. "Don't you think she'd rather take it easy just now?"

Ronaldo's face had frozen in an inscrutable expression. Eventually he spoke in a measured, calm tone. "Yes. You are correct. Thank you for your insight." He turned back to Connie with forced joviality. "Forgive my overexuberance, and enjoy your lunch break! We will speak again!" With this, he scampered off in the direction of the boardwalk.

PeeDee swiftly excused himself and set off after his brother. Looking around, Connie realised everybody else from the junior grade had already wandered off in various directions. Seeing Connie's options exhausted, Sadie took pity. "For real, though, feel free to bring your lunch down to the shore." Connie gratefully accepted the invitation and followed Sadie and Lars from the now-deserted education centre.

There were signs of activity in the settlement as they progressed through the streets. A man pushed a hand-cart with sacks of flour, and some residents were out tending their allotments. Sadie pointed out a few landmarks as they walked, while Lars glowered.

"Do you manufacture glass here?" Connie asked. "I heard it's made from sand."

"We used to," Sadie confirmed. "There's a foundry with all the right equipment. But there's not currently anyone here who knows how to use it. The guy who used to do it got moved on."

"I see. Maybe another settlement had the greater need."

Sadie shrugged. "Try not to break any windows, anyway. There might be a book on glassmaking in the library, if we really need it."

There was something bleak about the beach, despite the clement weather. Loose vines of seaweed were pummelled by the roiling waves, which crashed onto the shore at unpredictable heights and intervals. Occasionally the wash would retreat to reveal a submerged slope of pebbles, before launching to the high point of the sand with enough force to leave a tang of salty vapour in the air. They took their seats in a grassy area at the top of the slope, beyond the sea's influence.

Lars cast a side-eyed glance at Sadie's food. "Sadie, can I have a bite of your lunch?"

She sighed heavily. "This again. If you're going to follow me here then why don't you plan ahead and bring your own food? You can have half of my apple."

"Thanks!" He turned his attention to Connie. "What's that you're eating?"

Connie swallowed a mouthful. "It's eggs in bread. You, uh, can't have any."

He rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, don't flatter yourself. It sounds awful."

She opted not to rise to the bait. "So," she asked, "what's the difference between junior and senior grade? When do you graduate?"

"It's not written in stone," Sadie explained. "People usually move up to senior around fourteen, fifteen, but it's really up to the teachers. If you're ready then they'll move you up. Same with graduating. You can opt in to take a test whenever you like. Most kids wait though, because it's easier to stay in education than start working full-time."

"_Was_ easier," Lars snorted. "Before Mrs Mahoosawhatsit came to make my life even worse."

Sadie gave him a comradely punch in the shoulder. "So you'll be quitting school and pitching in with the next harvest?"

"I didn't say that..." he whined.

Connie gazed into the clear sky. "Do you ever see any gem activity from here? Like airships?"

Sadie shrugged, chewing a slice of fruit. "Not really. I mean, maybe sometimes, I guess. Not often."

"That's another thing," Lars griped. "How come they get to fly around in their special ships and we're stuck tramping around in a stupid horse-and-cart? Boy, they've got it easy."

"They're just more advanced, Lars. We'll get there some day."

"Pssh, yeah, right. Can't see how. Seems to me like if they really wanted to help us they could do better than..." He caught Sadie's eye. "I'm just saying! All this work, all year round to put food on the table, and they can step in and feed us whenever they like with no effort, right? So what's even the point? Wouldn't it be better for everyone if they stopped pretending and just..."

"Lars!" Sadie was aghast.

"That's very ungrateful," Connie said. "The gems lent us a helping hand when they didn't have to. It doesn't mean we have to lose our dignity as a species. I certainly wouldn't want us to be treated like... pets!"

Lars narrowed his eyes. "Well, I don't remember asking you, whatever your name was. Come to think of it, I don't remember inviting you to this little get-together."

Sadie was at the end of her tether. "_I_ invited her!" she exclaimed. "What's more, I didn't invite _you!_ You just followed me to scavenge half my lunch again!"

Lars stood up. "Whatever, ladies," he spat. "I'm leaving."

"Oof!" Sadie clenched her fists in frustration as Lars stormed off into the distance. Then, she calmed herself down to address Connie with awkward bonhomie. "Sorry about him. He's... Lars isn't so bad once you get to know him, he just gets a bit... you know, he says stuff like that and he doesn't necessarily mean it. He was just in a bad mood."

Connie searched her paper for a loose scrap of egg. "Well, we'd be in a sorry state if everyone thought like that."

"I know Lars is grateful really. It was just talk. I wouldn't want you to think... just on the basis of one conversation..."

There was something odd about the way Sadie was looking at Connie. Was she... nervous? That didn't make sense. It wasn't like Connie could do anything to Lars, no matter what she thought of his conduct.

Unless... was this the sort of thing her parents were worried about? People disrespecting the Diamond Authority? Sadie must know Connie's father was the new peacekeeper. Was the settlement a hotbed of anti-gem sentiments? It didn't seem like the sort of thing that would warrant moving her family halfway around the world to investigate. And yet, here was Sadie, apparently scared that Connie would recount this conversation to her father.

And should she? It could be a clue to the mystery apparently enveloping this settlement. On the other hand, it could just be a teenage boy in a surly mood trying to impress a new acquaintance with his cynicism. And it wasn't like her parents had actually asked her to investigate anything. Lars didn't seem very polite, but if it was going to upset Sadie...

Of course. It all made sense. Lars following Sadie around, Sadie sharing her food with him, their dry banter... it was just like something from a romance novel. Of course Sadie would protect him. That settled it.

Connie smiled conspiratorially. "Don't you worry about me. I wouldn't do anything to keep you from your betrothed."

Sadie stared back, confused. "Uh... thanks? But Lars isn't my... anything. I was just hoping he hadn't offended you."

Connie could see through this coy routine, but opted to play along. "It's fine. I've already forgotten about it." Her lunch finished, she stood up. "Anyway, thanks for showing me around. I don't want to be late back from lunch on my first day, so I'd better get going."

"All right... I'm sure I'll see you around." Sadie turned her attention back to the ocean as Connie departed.

* * *

Connie pondered the mystery of settlement B1C7 as she made her way back toward the education centre. Lars's outburst aside, everyone seemed pretty normal so far — at least, as far as she could tell with her lack of experience dealing with other people in her own age bracket.

She remembered something she'd been taught when she was a little girl: Pink Diamond loved all humans. No matter what you did, Pink Diamond would still love you. And why not? At their old settlement there had been an apiary, and she assumed they kept bees here as well. You looked after the bees, and in return they pollinated crops and provided the settlement with honey and wax. If a bee stung you, did you hate the bee? No, the pain lasted only a couple of minutes, and you would lament the poor insect as it perished as a result of its misguided action.

By analogy, what could anyone do here that could truly harm the gems? If there really was a problem in B1C7, it had to be something that posed a danger to the settlement itself, not mere idle talk.

She arrived to an empty classroom, and realised she must be early. Cautiously, she wandered around the room to look at things in more detail. The blackboard consisted of a full-width board with two narrower panels which could be slid from side to side, hiding or revealing pre-written text. (Connie briefly wondered where they got the chalk from.) Mrs Lezner's desk was piled with books and papers, many of which appeared to be unmarked schoolwork assignments.

She took a look at the sheet music on the pianoforte. It was handwritten on pre-printed music staves, with numerous blank sheets behind it. She pulled experimentally at the seat of the pianoforte stool, and it opened to reveal some printed books of music inside. _Classroom Songs_ and _Sonatas no. 31-40_ were at the top of the pile. She closed the lid again, not daring to rummage through its contents or indulge the urge to try playing the instrument. She looked up to where Pink Diamond's artistically-rendered eyes failed to quite meet hers. A dust-filmed plaque at the bottom of the frame bore the title, 'Our Benefactor'.

Mrs Lezner emerged from a door at the back of the classroom. "Oh, good afternoon, Connie. You're the first one back. You didn't spend your break with the other children?"

"Well, no," Connie admitted, sheepish.

"Not to worry. I know a lot of the children go home for lunch. I'm sure when they know you a little better they'll invite you to spend more time with them. It's only natural for children to be a bit shy of newcomers, I've seen it all before. Tell you what, while we're waiting, would you like to see the library?"

Connie replied in the affirmative, and Mrs Lezner led her back out to the atrium, producing a key to unlock the door to the library. "We keep it locked to make sure nothing goes missing," she explained, "but any time you want to get in, you only need to ask. In fact, your mother will have a key, so you should have no problem at all."

The room wasn't quite as Connie would have pictured it. The left and right walls were lined with bookshelves, and two smaller sets of shelves divided the room into three rows. At the back of the room was another door, presumably also locked. To the right of this door were a desk and chair, the desk supporting a large metallic contraption.

The bookshelves themselves were fairly well populated, but with visible gaps. Neatly engraved signs announced the subject matter of each shelf. At random, Connie investigated the shelf marked 'Adventure'. At one end were some antique-looking volumes: _The Pilgrim's Progress_, _A Journal of the Plague Year_, _The Female American_... further along the shelf the books became newer and more slight. Amongst these she spotted another copy of _Millicent Among the Gems_.

"Those aren't all post-gem literature," Mrs Lezner explained, observing Connie browsing the newer volumes. "Some of them are duplicates of older books, the popular ones don't last forever. That's where the typesetting machine comes in." She indicated the machine on the desk, which featured a row of vertically-aligned discs, two rows of buttons resembling organ stops, and three differently-sized levers jutting out to the right. Connie could only begin to imagine how it worked.

"Obviously paper is a luxury, but we get by. People volunteer to work on the machine and make new books for the library. Which reminds me, I need to ask your mother if she brought any new books. That's always an opportunity for the library, when new people move in. We can borrow the book and make a new copy to keep here. Of course, the typesetting machine has also been used by local authors over the years."

"How does it work?" Connie asked, peering past the buttons to a complicated array of gears within the device.

"You push the letter buttons in order to orient the wheels — see the tiny letters around the edge of each wheel? Then, when they're all lined up correctly, you pull this lever to imprint the row of letters onto the paper. It takes some getting used to, and you have to plan ahead if you want to bind a book — you're writing lines of two separate pages at the same time."

Mrs Lezner encouraged Connie to choose a book to borrow, and on a whim she selected _A Journal of the Plague Year_. By this point there were sounds of activity outside, and they returned to the classroom where most of the children had arrived. Connie took her seat next to PeeDee and set her book down on the table.

The afternoon's lesson was somewhat less strenuous than the morning. Mrs Lezner spent about an hour going over some fairly simple geometry concepts, seemingly for the benefit of some of the younger children who either couldn't or wouldn't grasp them. Connie had moved on to more advanced stuff a couple of years ago, so for the most part she glazed over and let her mind wander. Indeed, it had to be acknowledged that Mrs Lezner had spent most of the day teaching Connie things which she already knew. Maybe she didn't belong in the junior grade? But then, a part of her was grateful for a break from being taught by her mother, whose educational methods were decidedly more regimented than this. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stay in this class and have an easier time for a while, at least while she adjusted to living in this new place.

"...if you take anything from this," Mrs Lezner concluded, "just remember that a triangle is effectively half an oblong. See? Look at it, it's basically half of an oblong. Does that make sense to everyone?"

A series of half-hearted nods from a few members of the class seemed to satisfy her. "Right! Well, I think we can call it a day. Now, there's no school tomorrow as the adults will be harvesting peas in the south-westmost field. But if everything goes well, I'll see you all the day after. Remember to stay out of mischief!" She glared briefly at Onion, who pretended she was looking at something behind him.

It seemed early to be finishing, but Connie wasn't going to question it. By this point she felt like she couldn't concentrate on something even if her life depended on it. She picked up her book and joined the other children in traipsing out through the atrium. She could briefly hear her mother's voice through the closed door to the other classroom, dictating facts in an authoritative tone.

"So," PeeDee asked her once they were outside, "how does it compare to being home-schooled?"

Connie thought. "Well, it's a bit more relaxing not to be the only one and be the centre of attention the whole time. But I suppose the downside is that the lessons aren't planned around what I already know."

"Get used to it," he said. "I've lost count of the number of times we've had that triangles lesson. It was fine for the first year or so, but then every time one of the little kids got old enough to start coming to classes, it was like we would just start all over again. On the bright side, nobody's been Choosened here for a while so maybe there's a chance we can graduate to the senior grade before we die of old age."

Connie frowned. "Do you not _like_ school, PeeDee?"

He sagged slightly. "These are meant to be the carefree years of your life, aren't they? Learning about the world, and playing about while the adults worry about the difficult stuff. But maybe I'd rather be helping with that stuff myself. Maybe every day I spend in the education centre, I feel like I've wasted a day I could have spent doing something to help the settlement. I'm sure Mrs Lezner is doing the best she can under the circumstances, but I just don't think it's for me."

Connie wasn't quite sure how to react. After a moment, she gave PeeDee an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Well, that's admirably civic-minded of you. You help out in your dad's manufactory, right? So it's not like you're doing nothing."

His thousand-yard stare refocused on the conversation. "Oh, yeah, I guess my brother still wants to show you around soon. But it looks like they're still in class. Plus you seem pretty tired, so there's no hurry."

Connie yawned. "Yeah, I think I only got a couple of hours' sleep. I should just go home and relax, I think." She regarded the other children as they disappeared around various corners. "I hope it's not rude to ask, but does Onion not speak? I don't think he once responded to any of Mrs Lezner's questions."

"Yeah, that's a long story. Onion's dad came here from another settlement somewhere where they didn't speak any English. I don't know why, but he only ever talks to his dad. Mrs Lezner always tries to include him. I'm sure he understands everything but she's never got him to respond."

"His mom speaks English?"

"Yeah, she's never seemed bothered by any of it. Maybe she thinks it's just a phase."

Connie shrugged. "Maybe it is." She yawned again. "Oof, I'd better go home. Guess I'll see you in a couple of days."

They parted ways and Connie made her way back to Sussex Road, hoping she would remember which was their house. Fortunately she recognised it by the doorknocker, and gratefully crossed the threshold.

Her dad was already in the drawing room flipping through a book, and she greeted him as she collapsed into the sofa. "Hey there, kiddo," he replied, putting the book down. "You look like I feel. Was it a long day?"

She looked at the clock: not yet three in the afternoon. "It _felt_ like a long day, but I am forced to acknowledge that it actually wasn't."

Doug chuckled. "I've had a fairly short day myself. I guess your mom's doing enough work for the three of us. Still, I took the opportunity and started digging the allotment. How was your first day? Did you learn much?"

Connie erred on the side of diplomacy. "We mainly covered history and mathematics today. How about your day? Did you meet with Mr Dewey?"

"I did indeed. He gave me some background on the settlement and its inhabitants. I think they've been struggling a bit without a second teacher, but obviously it'll be getting back on track now. He gave me this almanac, too. It has a schedule for all the crops grown here."

"I heard they're harvesting peas tomorrow," Connie ventured, pleased to have some relevant knowledge.

"That's right. Apparently that's an experimental crop. They've been growing a limited amount in a fallow field to see what the effect is on the soil. Traditionally peas are meant to be good for the land, but I guess there's been some debate about it. The harvests in that field have been a bit thin so they're giving it a try."

"What would they do — grow peas on half of the field and compare the yields next year?"

"I think so. Some of the residents here are quite scientifically minded. Your mother and I will go out tomorrow to help pick peas, it'll be good for getting to know some of the other people. Oh, speaking of which, I had some time free this afternoon so I went round to introduce myself to some of the neighbours, and they were kind enough to give us a selection of seeds for the allotment. So maybe tomorrow we can decide what we want to plant."

Connie smiled in acknowledgement. "Any root vegetables? They're a good supplement to... oh! Excuse me." She yawned expansively.

"Goodness, you really are tired. Why don't you sit there and have a rest? Your mother will be back soon and we can have some dinner, then you can get a good night's sleep."

Connie nodded mutely, and closed her eyes for a while.

* * *

She was woken by the sound of the front door opening. "I don't know what they've been teaching at that education centre," her mother announced without preamble.

Connie could have gone back to sleep on the sofa, but reality was intruding. "There's some dinner ready," her dad was announcing from the kitchen.

She dragged herself through to the dining room and couldn't resist resting her head on the table as she sat down, trying to reconnect with that sweet oblivion, if only on a symbolic level.

"Sit up straight, Connie," Priyanka scolded. "It's rude to put your head on the table."

Connie obeyed and willed herself to focus as dinner was served. An appetising vegetable stew was accompanied by the remnants of the day's bread. "It's going a bit stale," Doug admitted as he served up. "We'll need to figure out a schedule for visiting the bakery. Would you mind looking into that while we're out tomorrow, Connie?"

Connie nodded compliance as she swallowed a mouthful. "Was I asleep for long? I didn't see what time it was."

"A little over an hour. The time change catches up to you, doesn't it? I think we'll all sleep well tonight."

Priyanka changed the subject. "Mrs Lezner spoke highly of your academic abilities," she told Connie. Her smile was a mix of pride in Connie and in her own teaching. "I've said she should encourage you in any extracurricular activities if the lessons are too easy. It would be a good opportunity for you to take up music."

It was more a series of announcements than a suggestion. "Yes, ma'am," Connie replied.

Her mother went on. "What are the other children like in your class? Did you make any friends?"

"Everyone that I've spoken to seems nice," Connie said blandly. "I don't know whether we're friends yet, but it was nice to talk to some of them between classes."

"Well, I'm glad to hear they're at least polite. That's more than can be said for some of the students in the senior grade. Have you met a boy named Lars Barriga? A terrible, wilful child. I'm afraid I can only blame his previous teachers for allowing him to develop such an attitude."

Connie remembered a conversation from the day before. "What about the Pita twins? Were they in your class?"

"Yes, although they're not as alike as I would have expected. But as I was saying, the curriculum must have been all over the place. There's just no organisation to what they've been learning. I can see why Moss Agate was so anxious for me to come and knock things back into shape."

Connie didn't remember Moss Agate displaying any signs of anxiety during their meeting, but kept her counsel.

Priyanka turned to her husband. "But dear, I'm sorry, I've not asked about your day. What's the situation here? Is it another Zircon you'll be meeting with?"

He nodded. "Once every four days. As far as I know it'll just be to report on the general state of the settlement, but I'll have to wait and see if she has anything else to say about that. Certainly Mr Dewey didn't have anything special to mention."

"Hmm. Did you get a sense of him as a leader?"

Doug grimaced slightly. "Well, he likes the sound of his own voice, I'll say that much. He seems a bit more hands-on than Mrs Thompson, but the agricultural decisions are all consulted on by an informal council of residents. I kind of got the impression that he'll just take the credit for whatever works."

"Anything's better than that woman," Priyanka murmured, before checking herself. "Sorry, Connie, I shouldn't speak that way about a civic leader. It's just been a long day."

"It's an important job, though, isn't it, Mom? Civic leader, I mean. So you're right that people doing it should work hard."

Her mother looked vaguely uncertain. "What's important is that the right person is in the job, and we don't need to worry about that, because it's all sorted out by the gems."

Connie was puzzled. "So... they identified Mrs Thompson as the best leader for the settlement?"

Priyanka hesitated, clearly reluctant to accept the result of her own premise. "They understand things on a higher level than we do," she concluded.

This didn't seem like a very satisfying answer. Wasn't settlement P5T7 struggling? What use had their civic leader been other than as an overseer of its gradual decline? Connie felt guilty for doubting her mother's logic, and kept the thought to herself. Perhaps it was a concept to revisit when she wasn't half-asleep.

After the main course, they celebrated the successful navigation of their first day with a gemfruit each. Connie selected one of the yellow ones, savouring its chalky sweetness. After that, her parents suggested she head up to her room to rest while they made plans for getting to the harvest tomorrow — and, Connie suspected, discussed whatever secret business it was that they were trying to protect her from. She didn't have the energy to try and eavesdrop this time, though. Instead she gratefully traipsed upstairs to her room and got ready for bed. While there was still some light from outside she read a few pages of her library book, but it soon became impossible to concentrate and she submitted to the inevitability of sleep.


	5. Digging

The distant sound of a cockerel brought Connie into semi-consciousness, but her bed was too warm and comfortable to contemplate ever leaving. She gratefully went back to sleep.

An unknown time later, there was a knock at her door, and a creak of hinges as it was pushed open. "Connie?" Her mother's voice. "Connie, your father and I are going out to the fields shortly. You need to get up."

She knew it was pointless to resist, but her body was rebellious and refused to help her out of bed. She tried to banish the dreams from her mind as her mom removed the blanket and manipulated her into a sitting position. "I was comfy..." she mumbled.

"Don't be sluggish, Connie. You've had a good long sleep but it's the morning now. Come and have some breakfast."

After dressing, eating some fruit and drinking a large glass of water, Connie felt more alert. She was loath to acknowledge it but her parents were right — if she'd stayed in bed all morning, she'd be no closer to adjusting to the time zone. Certainly she felt much better than she had this time yesterday. At least she had a quiet day to look forward to while her parents were out.

Her dad, having finished his own breakfast, sat lacing his boots. "Don't forget to visit the bakery while we're gone," he told her. "You can get yourself something for lunch, and bring home some bread for the next couple of days."

"No problem," Connie nodded.

"Additionally," her mom said, "it would be helpful if you would finish off digging the allotment. There's a spade just outside the back door."

"Very well," Connie replied, deflating slightly. She hoped they would leave before her quiet day got even less quiet.

As if in response, there was the muffled sound of a handbell outside. "Sounds like that's our team," Doug said, standing up. "Have a nice day, Connie. I'm not sure what time we'll be back but I'm sure it'll be before dinner."

"Bye, dad! Bye, mom!" Connie waved her parents off as they exited the house. "I won't forget the bread!"

Finally, silence. Luckily the temptation to go back to bed had by now dissipated. Instead, Connie went through and lounged in the drawing room, revelling for a while in her new status as de facto mistress of the house. The question was, in what order to tackle her chores? And how to spend the rest of the day?

She decided that the best thing would be to find the bakery first of all. For one thing, it was an opportunity to continue familiarising herself with the streets of settlement B1C7. She dug out the map that had been in their welcome pack and was able to locate the building marked out at the end of the boardwalk, closest to the windmill. That made sense, at least.

The settlement seemed eerily quiet with most adults by now out in the field. Some chickens had emerged from shelter, however, and were occupied with scratching in the patches of grass for whatever chickens liked for breakfast. Eventually she found a cluster of them pecking at some grain which had been scattered on the ground. Connie had wondered whether the birds could possibly find enough to eat by their own devices, and this apparently answered the question. But if their diet had to be supplemented from the harvest, by what margin did this make the hens worth keeping? They were lucky the residents deigned to feed them, and she couldn't help seeing a parallel with the gems' oversight of humanity. "You should be glad we like eggs," she told an uninterested hen.

* * *

The bakery stood alone beyond the end of the boardwalk, and looked like a more recent construction than some of the other buildings. A mis-shapen sign above the door was presumably intended to resemble a loaf of bread.

Connie pushed the door open to a warm room with a counter, and a pair of familiar faces.

"Oh, it's you," Lars said. "Great. I guess now you've moved here it's your family's mission to bother me every single day."

Sadie waved. "Hi, Connie. Are you getting to know your way around?"

"Yes, thanks. I didn't know you two worked here!"

"Oh, we don't really," Sadie explained. "Not usually. It's run by Lars's parents."

Lars shot Connie a grandiose smirk. "See, some of us have parents who do jobs that are actually useful."

"Lars! Anyway, they're out helping with the harvest so we volunteered to fill in."

"You mean **you** volunteered. It's so dumb," Lars complained. "They could easily have stayed here and I could still be in bed, but everyone's so desperate to see how those stupid peas are doing."

Sadie disregarded this. "What can we get for you?" she asked.

"I'm just supposed to get some bread to last a couple of days."

"Easy," Lars declared. "I have a loaf cooling in the back. It was for Mr DeMayo, but if he doesn't want to show up on time then that's his problem, he can wait for the next one. Be right back."

Lars disappeared with uncharacteristic energy through a door behind the counter. It occurred to Connie that she might take this opportunity to try and gather some intelligence. "So," she asked Sadie, trying to seem casual, "whatever happened to the old teacher before we got here?"

Sadie winced. "Sheesh," she said, "I don't know exactly, but it was a whole big deal. We had a bunch of Jaspers come down with a Zircon, and the Zircon had them going into houses and looking around. I've no idea what they were looking for or if they found it, but next thing we knew, the teacher and peacekeeper were being told to pack their things and that was it. We were just told they were needed elsewhere. My mom knows Mr Dewey and he won't even tell her what was going on, so, uh, yeah, not sure."

Lars had emerged with the bread. "Are you serious?" he asked Sadie, incredulous. "You know her dad's a professional tattletale, right?"

"None of it's a secret!" Sadie protested. "We were just talking."

Lars thrust the bread at Connie. "Here, take it. Stop interrogating my assistant."

("I'm not your...")

"I don't care what your dad tells his gem friends. I've been in plenty of trouble, ever since I was a little kid. But if you drag Sadie into anything, I'll... I'll..."

Connie couldn't take any more. "I'm really sorry," she exclaimed, clutching the bread to her chest. "I promise, I was just curious. I won't tell anybody."

Sadie made a placatory gesture. "Look, this is all a bit tense. We're all friends here, right..?"

"Hmph." Lars folded his arms and turned dramatically away from Connie.

This had gone very badly. Why had she thought she could be discreet with her questions? Of course she couldn't trick Lars, the boy who thought so little of the gems' authority that he had defied the settlement border.

"I really am sorry," she told him. "I know it's my dad's job to report on disputes in the settlement, but he would never want to get anybody in real trouble. Either way, I definitely won't mention anything either of you might have said, or anything. Besides," she added, "I, um, I really don't think either of you have done anything wrong anyway, so I guess it's kind of a moot point." She smiled nervously.

Lars calmed down, but still looked a little offended. "Yeah, right! If the Diamond Authority knew all about me then I'd be in a world of trouble."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "Oh, knock it off, Lars, she's right. Pink Diamond doesn't care about your grouching. Sorry about him," she told Connie as Lars quietly sulked. "He thinks he's some big rebel, but he's just being over-dramatic again. Still," she smiled, "it is nice to know you're on our side."

* * *

Connie considered this on her way home. During her stammered apology to Lars, she hadn't really been conscious of whether she meant it or whether she was just trying to escape an awkward situation. The words had just flowed out. Was she really on their side? Who was 'they', anyway? Just Sadie and Lars? The settlement in general? She wasn't comfortable with the idea that it could even be necessary to take sides.

Maybe she was overthinking things. Perhaps it would be better to forget she'd ever overheard her parents' conversation, and just live her own life. At the very least, she should cease any clumsy attempts to proactively gather information. With this in mind, she resolved to take her mind off things with some reading, and upon returning home she retrieved her library book (plus a couple of other books from the shelves) and settled down in the drawing room to delve into them at length.

She leafed through _A Journal of the Plague Year_ in horrified fascination. The narrative brought stark reality to her abstract knowledge of human diseases. Above all she found the scale of the tragedies contained therein to be beyond comprehension — within a single sentence it might refer to the deaths of more humans than she had ever met. She tried, and failed, to visualise the overcrowding of the old cities. Clearly such a concentration of humanity contained the seeds of its own destruction, as evidenced by this disease spreading unchecked due to sheer population density. Its invisible transmission from one victim to another was the stuff of unpleasant dreams — an intangible foe, one that could not be fought.

Interesting though the book was, it was too depressing to read through in one sitting, so she inserted a bookmark and selected one of the other volumes to investigate.

_The New and Further Adventures of Lemuel Gulliver_ seemed interesting at first glance — its protagonist travelled the world to various bizarre lands and told tales of the people and things he encountered. However, there was something strange about the way that it was written. Most prominently, the prose kept abruptly shifting from past to present tense and back with no discernible justification. It also alluded to earlier adventures which from their brief descriptions sounded more interesting, so she resolved to put this book to one side until she could locate a copy of its prequel.

_The Adventures of Millicent Among the Gems_ showed more promise. The actual premise of the story seemed rather contrived — the titular Millicent lost both of her parents in a tragic accident, and instead of being taken in by a neighbour as one might expect, she was selected by the gems to join the court of Pink Diamond. An unlikely scenario indeed, but it was the jumping-off point for an imaginative tour of gem society. It was, of course, sheer speculation, and bore more than a passing resemblance to descriptions of ancient human civilisations. Still, it was undeniably entertaining, not to mention better written than the Gulliver book.

A knock at the door interrupted Connie's reading. On her way to answer it, she glanced at the clock and was startled to see how much time had passed.

She opened the door to find none other than the Fryman brothers. "Hey, Connie!" PeeDee beamed with slightly too much enthusiasm. "We thought since everyone's out in the fields we'd come and see how you were getting along."

"Oh!" Connie was taken aback. Was this what friends did? She gave the boys a solemn nod that was not quite a bow. "Thank you. I hope you are also having a good day."

"We were wondering if you'd like to come and have that tour of our manufactory!" Ronaldo blurted.

Connie brought her palm to her face in self-recrimination. "Oh, it sounds very interesting, but I don't think I can. I got so distracted reading that I lost track of the time, and I was supposed to do some allotment work this afternoon." She looked at them apologetically. "I really would like to see it some time soon, though."

Ronaldo sagged slightly, but tried to hide his disappointment after PeeDee elbowed him.

"It's fine!" PeeDee assured her. "Listen, why don't we give you a hand? It's not like we were doing anything else this afternoon."

Ronaldo seemed about to protest, but was stilled by another elbow. Instead, he grinned. "Yes, it's the least we can do! Many hands make light work, after all."

This sentiment seemed to evaporate fairly quickly upon the commencement of said work. They took turns with the spade, but Ronaldo spent more time arguing with PeeDee over who had done their fair share of the work than actually digging. Still, between the three of them they broke up the remainder of the sod, and Connie was grateful for the help.

"The soil here seems different to where I came from," she remarked. "The ground in settlement P5T7 was always quite dry, even when it rained."

"That sounds a bit like the soil in the outer fields," Ronaldo replied. "The adults are putting a brave face on things, but I believe the uninhabitable areas are growing. We'll see whether these peas have any effect. I assisted in a promising pilot study under controlled conditions, but as for the effects out in the wild — I have my suspicions," he pronounced.

"The administration here conducts a lot of experiments on soil conditions, and Ronaldo likes to help," PeeDee explained.

Ronaldo was clearly dissatisfied with this characterisation of his involvement. "I've been running my own independent experiments for a number of years," he boasted. "Experiments that are a great deal more... uh, experimental."

"Gosh," said Connie. "What kind of experiments?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure whether I know you well enough to go into that."

"Um... right." More odd behaviour. Would everybody she met eventually start acting like they had something to hide?

Ronaldo's resolve broke just as quickly. "I mean, I could probably show you if you were interested. Most people," he added snobbishly, "are too ignorant to appreciate my insight."

PeeDee rummaged in a pocket. "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. We brought you these." He thrust a translucent paper bag at Connie. "Potato slivers."

She accepted the proffered bag and examined its contents: paper-thin slices of fried potato. She picked one out to try, and found it surprisingly crunchy.

"It's an old Fryman family recipe," PeeDee explained. "They're good for eating on-the-go. We flavour them with herbs and salt. No shortage of sea salt around here."

"They're nice," Connie said, eating another. "Thank you. I have to admit," she added, "I wasn't sure how much mileage there could really be in just serving up potatoes. I suppose I underestimated them. I would never have thought of this."

Ronaldo nodded sagely. "It's all about making the most of what we have. When you don't have the luxury of growing all kinds of exotic foods, you invent your own luxury. A potato can go a long way. Although," he chuckled awkwardly, "you can't live on _just_ potatoes. Yet."

Connie thanked the boys again and they headed on their way. Her tasks for the day completed, she decided she'd earned a rest. She took her seat again in the drawing room and leafed through a few more pages of _A Journal of the Plague Year_, but soon felt her eyelids becoming heavy. She should try not to sleep, but surely there was no harm in setting the book down and closing her eyes against the unwelcome daylight. She listened to the comforting ticking of the clock.

* * *

The front door opened, and Connie was instantly unsure whether she had been sleeping.

"Anybody home? Connie?" her mother's voice sounded.

"I'm in here," she announced.

Her parents emerged from the hallway. "Hi!" Doug greeted her. "We've had a busy day. How about you?"

Connie smiled. "Probably not quite as busy," she admitted.

"We saw the allotment on the way in. It's looking good, well done. We're losing today's light but we'll get up early tomorrow to do some planting. We can't keep putting it off."

This sounded like an unwelcome set-back to Connie's progress in adjusting to the time zone, but she nodded assent.

"What did you have for lunch?" her mother asked.

Connie realised that with one thing and another, the meal had quite slipped her mind. "I had a snack," she admitted.

Priyanka's expression darkened. "It's still hoarding when it's your own share, Connie. I wish you'd remember that. You have to have a proper lunch."

Connie couldn't meet her eye. "Sorry, ma'am," she mumbled.

Doug rested a hand on his wife's shoulder, and her stern look evaporated. "You'll just have to make sure to have plenty to eat this evening. Mr Pita suggested we come to his manufactory. They're holding a little celebration for the harvest."

* * *

The celebration wasn't quite little enough for Connie's tastes — it seemed most of the settlement had crammed themselves into the space, and by the time they got there it was standing-room only. Some tables had been moved together and laid out with flatbreads, drinks and cake. Connie tried a slice which was topped with cheese, peppers and egg. She looked around to see if there was anyone her age in the crowd, but there was only Lars, who glared at her from the corner when she glanced over at him.

Despite her earlier resolution, she couldn't help dwelling on what Sadie had told her. If the gems had carried out searches, and now Connie's parents had been brought here to do something, did that mean they hadn't found what they were looking for? If somebody in the settlement had something to hide, the balance of probability was that they were in this room right now. This was not a particularly comforting thought.

"Hey! Are you Connie?" She looked up to find she was being addressed by a middle-aged woman with startling bouffant hair. "My name's Vidalia, I met your dad yesterday. How're you finding life here so far?"

Connie wasn't sure how to respond. "It seems more... interesting than our old settlement."

Vidalia cackled. "Interesting! I wish." She noticed Connie's uncertain expression. "Sorry, I promise I'm not making fun. Places just don't seem so interesting when you've lived in them for enough decades."

Connie took a sip of her glass of juice. "What do you do, Mrs... Vidalia?"

Vidalia gave an extravagant shrug. "A little weaving, a little painting. Nothing so useful it'd get me off farming duties. My husband, Yellowtail, he's a fisherman. A fisherman! Do you know the fish just wash up on the beach here? So naturally he feels a little out of place. Still, we should be grateful. If he hadn't been moved here, we'd never have met and I'd never have been blessed with Onion."

Connie nearly choked on her drink. That odd little boy was this woman's son? Everyone had to have a mother, she supposed.

A girl who had to be Jenny's twin sister was weaving through the crowd collecting empty plates. She looked flustered. Connie had assumed they would be indistinguishable, but neither her hair, clothes or bearing could be mistaken for Jenny's.

Vidalia followed Connie's gaze. "Ah, the famous Pita twins," she smirked. "I expect you were surprised to find two sets of siblings in the settlement? A lot of people are."

"PeeDee Fryman is in my class at the education centre," Connie blandly replied, unsure what else to say.

"They're good boys," Vidalia said, momentarily solemn. "Nobody begrudges Mr Fryman that. For a long time I assumed it was down to who you know, but... whoo, Greg!" She abandoned her train of thought to startle Connie with this loud cheer directed at Greg from the stables, who had begun strumming on a guitar.

Apparently the conversation was over, as Vidalia joined some of the other adults in singing some traditional songs to Greg's accompaniment. Connie wandered back to the table of food, heeding her mother's instructions by taking another slice of flatbread while simultaneously eyeing up a piece of cake. This slice was flavoured with spinach, pickle and some kind of fish. It was paradoxically enjoyable, in that she felt constantly compelled to take another bite in order to rid herself of the aftertaste of the previous one.

Listening to the hubbub of voices, Connie could make out snippets of conversation. However, whenever her concentration dulled, they blended into a melange of meaningless syllables. Despite two full days in the new settlement, she still hadn't adjusted to the time difference, and it was becoming more difficult to remain focused. She chewed determinedly through her flatbread, in the hope that it would replenish her mental energies.

Attempting to mingle, Connie almost collided with Jenny's twin as she carried out a freshly-baked flatbread. "Whoops, sorry!" the girl graciously exclaimed, expertly balancing the plate on one hand. She gave a friendly smile. "Good evening. Are you Connie?"

Connie meekly replied in the affirmative.

"I thought so. My sister was telling me about you. My name's Kiki, welcome to the settlement! Are you enjoying the food?"

"Yes," Connie hurriedly replied, "absolutely." She wondered what exactly Jenny had said about her. Suppressing this thought, she indicated the slice she was eating. "I was curious to know what type of fish this is?"

Kiki gave a smile so broad it forced her eyes closed. "Just normal fish! Don't worry, it was brought in fresh this morning."

"Oh! Good," Connie hoped she hadn't implied something was amiss. "It's nice," she reiterated. "Thanks for inviting us."

Kiki cheerfully waved this off. "No need to thank me, my dad revels in events like this. Speaking of which" - she looked momentarily uncomfortable - "I've a fair bit more food to bring out, so I'd better get back to it, if it's all the same with you."

"Of course," Connie insisted, "don't let me get in your way." She didn't want to incur Mr Pita's wrath, even indirectly.

Kiki returned to her duties and Connie finally finished her slice of food. After washing it down with the rest of her drink, she grabbed a piece of cake and began contemplating the pros and cons of staying. She knew it was a good idea to get to know more people, but this crowded and increasingly noisy gathering didn't seem like the best opportunity. Everyone was already absorbed in their own conversations or singing. Plus, the only people even near her age were either working or Lars. She took a bite of cake and risked a glance at the gangly youth, who was gazing at her with an expression she couldn't decode. Swiftly averting her eyes, she pushed her way through a jostle of people, increasingly conscious of how hot the room was.

The cacophony of voices was starting to bear down on her, as she remembered that this was more people than she'd ever seen in one room before. Come to that, it might be more people than she'd ever _met_ before. She glanced nervously at the various people in conversation, trying to intuit some furtive tone, some conspiratorial laugh. Vidalia caught her eye and raised a glass, winking. The overlapping voices crescendoed in Connie's ears.

She shook her head vigorously. This was all too much to take in, and she needed to get out of here. Her mind made up, she found her mother in belaboured conversation with a man with an eyepatch, and gently tugged on her sleeve.

"Mom, I think I might go home and get some rest. I want to make sure I'm alert to help with the planting tomorrow morning."

Priyanka nodded. "That's very sensible. I'm sure we won't stay out too late ourselves. Still, if we don't see you — good night." She returned to her conversation as Connie made her way out past her dad, who was singing along more or less tunelessly to a song about apples.

* * *

The boardwalk was refreshingly quiet and mild after the increasing claustrophobia of the party. The sun had dipped below the hills, but there was enough residual light in the atmosphere to see by. She walked up to the fence and stared down at the distant ocean. The low ebb of the water revealed stranded seaweed, which streaked the sand black in the half-light. At this distance, there was something calming about the sound of the waves.

Alongside the muffled music from the cafeteria door, she realised there was a sound of quiet voices nearby. She strolled toward the Frymans' manufactory entrance, where a light was on and a figure stood outside. As she approached, the words of a one-sided conversation became distinct.

"It's like I've been saying all along. It's all about balance." The speaker, a tall older boy, spoke with a quiet confidence that demanded close attention. He leaned on the closed bottom section of the door, holding a small bag of food. "You can't have humans without gems. You can't have bread without potatoes. And yet, by the same token... you can't have balance without imbalance."

"Whatever you say, Buck." The voice from inside was PeeDee's. He did not sound particularly engaged by this discussion.

"You have to embrace paradox. The human condition... is that of paradox."

"Sure thing, Buck..."

Connie approached the light with a sense of inevitability. "Good evening," she said.

Buck looked at her impassively. "Good evening," he echoed.

"Hi," said PeeDee, barely visible behind the door.

There was a silence, and Connie felt something more was expected of her. "Um... so, you didn't go to Mr Pita's gathering?"

Buck shrugged. "Usually I would, but there's value in breaking your routines. That's what I was explaining to PeeDee. But it's a message you have to be ready to listen to." He stared at Connie. "You have the advantage of me," he added, in the same calm tone.

"Um... what do you mean?"

"You were listening to us, right? You know my name, I don't know your name. There is imbalance."

"My name's Connie," she replied, and to her relief he broke eye contact and resumed staring off into the middle-distance.

"It takes confidence to relinquish your advantage so readily," he said after a thoughtful pause. "I admire that."

"Thanks..?"

"In a way," he continued, "I already knew who you were. Your dad works for my dad. But I don't like to look at things that way. They're called civil servants. Which means... they both work for us."

So this boy was Mr Dewey's son. Connie had a vague sense that she wouldn't like the point he was making, if she only knew what it was. "You may see it that way," she said. "I would say, they both work for the gems."

Buck smiled enigmatically. "See? I knew who you were, but I didn't know _you_. Perhaps nobody really knows anybody, but now at least we're a step closer." He proffered the paper bag. "These are made from grated fried potato. They're the best. Would you like one?"

"Thank you, but I'm full," Connie said, truthfully. It had been quite a large slice of cake.

He nodded. "The power to master your own appetite is a great one indeed. I'll look forward to future exchanges of wisdom, Connie."

Connie made her excuses, and walked home with the surreal conversation echoing through her mind. As the evening wore on she had become troubled by a vague notion that everybody here knew something that she didn't, and Buck Dewey's cryptic pronouncements had only served to amplify this paranoia. What she needed was to get some sleep and immerse herself in normality. It wasn't as if worrying about what people in the settlement might or might not be up to had done her any good. As she entered the house, a weariness overtook her, and sleep came quickly. She did not hear her parents' return.


	6. Subversive Activity

Connie learned something over the following weeks about the human capacity to adjust to change. As she settled into a routine, settlement P5T7 began to seem increasingly remote.

The seeds which Vidalia and some other neighbours had donated were coming along encouragingly. Soon they would have cabbages, beans and root vegetables to bring some variety to the dinner table. They had also planted tomatoes, zucchini and berries — "It's not quite the right time of year," Doug said, "but we'll get more than if we left the plot empty." Additionally, a corner of the allotment was given over to a couple of cotton plants, with a view to making a contribution toward some new clothes for Connie.

At one point Ronaldo went out of his way to stroll past their allotment, and later subjected Connie to a lecture about improper and suboptimal placement of crops, one which could not be truncated even by explaining that she had not been consulted on any of these decisions.

Priyanka was quick to volunteer Connie for lessons on the pianoforte, which Mrs Lezner was only too eager to provide. The direct result of this was that Connie ended up staying behind during many of the breaks between classes in order to practice scales, arpeggios and numerous other technical exercises. Connie couldn't help feeling that this was restricting her opportunities to socialise with the other children. Mrs Lezner, it turned out, was something of an amateur composer, and she delighted in digging out reams of handwritten ditties for Connie to practice. They were easy enough to pick up once she had been taught the basics, but repetitious in their themes. The printed books of sonatas remained in the pianoforte stool, neglected and unmentioned.

Mrs Lezner's daily classes themselves were somewhat unstructured, though in all honesty Connie was finding it a welcome break from her mother's regimen. School did not follow a strict schedule, but tended to start between nine and ten in the morning, and end comfortably before three in the afternoon. Mrs Lezner would generally start the day with some prepared quiz questions, before launching into a meandering lesson on whichever topic took her fancy on that day. Subjects ran the gamut from geometry, grammar and agriculture, through to history, astronomy, literature and more. To give the woman her due, there was certainly a breadth to her knowledge. Some lessons were revisited more often than others, and Connie noticed a trend whereby students in the class would ask Mrs Lezner questions designed to distract her into launching into a digression on a favoured topic.

Another thing Connie noticed was Mrs Lezner's habit of announcing that some point of query would be investigated as a 'class project', which would then never be mentioned again. Connie was becoming convinced this was a tactic to indefinitely defer unwelcome questions. However, to her surprise, one day Mrs Lezner resurrected a digression from that first history lesson.

"I have some good news, children," she announced, brandishing a sheaf of paper. "We've acquired this scrap paper from the civic hall, and I think it will be perfect for that written assignment. I'll distribute a couple of sheets each, and you can use them to write a short story about life before or after the gems. Take a few days to think about what you might write, and then we'll dedicate a lesson to it."

Connie examined her paper as it was handed out. One side of each sheet had already been used, so that left two sides of paper overall — a short story indeed. She looked at what had been written on the other side. One sheet had part of a hand-written list of tools and quantities of wood and bricks. The other was part of some sort of map that had been cut up into sheets. It looked like it might have been a plan of the fields, but all that was on this page was a solid line passing diagonally through a few intersecting dotted lines. Come to think of it, she could probably write over this side too.

At home that evening, she asked her mother: "Mom, what will happen if... when the Earth is saved? When we leave the settlements?"

Priyanka blinked. "Goodness — what's brought this on?"

"It's for some homework."

This gave Mrs Maheshwaran pause. "I didn't know Mrs Lezner was setting assignments like that. How interesting. But I honestly doubt it will happen in either of our lifetimes."

"Still," Connie insisted. "Don't you think it will be hard for humans to adjust after all these years?"

"I can only hope," Priyanka opined, "that we will have learned the lessons of this era, and emerge a wiser species with compassion for the planet and for ourselves. In all of the places I've lived, I've always been touched by the generosity and work ethic of my neighbours. But I wonder sometimes whether it's being watched over by gemkind that brings out the best in humanity, and how that would be affected if they weren't here."

"The gems would still be around, though, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose. But they were here for all those years we were harming the planet, and it doesn't seem like being observed did much to curb our worst instincts." Priyanka hesitated. "Still, I don't know any better than anybody else what will happen, and it's certainly good to have optimism."

"If we can maintain our way of life and be able to grow enough food by ourselves, I think people would be happy and not need any more," Connie decided. "Once the barren lands are inhabitable again, we'd need to be careful and slow about moving back into them anyway. Now that we know how fragile the ecosystem is."

Priyanka regarded her daughter. "You don't think people would get carried away with expanding territory to have children?"

Connie considered this. "Oh, yes, we wouldn't have the organic regulators any more, I suppose." She wondered how this would work. Would they queue up to undergo surgery? A useful detail to work out for her story. Still, it bore further consideration. "Isn't that dangerous, though? Not to have a regulator?"

Her mother smiled benevolently. "People would just have to be careful. Don't forget, they managed for thousands of years without it. We were always able to recover from injuries, it was just slower."

Connie thought of the plague journal. "Wouldn't people get ill, though? What if there was an outbreak of disease? I mean... there could be diseases all around us right now, and we just wouldn't know about it."

"Life would never be perfect, but we'd find a way to manage."

Images of bodies tipped into pits. "I was reading a book — you can get sick just from being near somebody who has it, and by the time you know then it's too late..."

"There's no sense in worrying about it," Priyanka said with an air of reassurance but also finality. Connie was not reassured. It was an evasion that left her disappointed and disillusioned.

Surely there was a lot of sense in worrying about it? That without the gems' protection, humanity might be helpless. At the mercy of an adversary they could not see, and with any knowledge of how to deal with it lost centuries in the past.

* * *

At the next opportunity, Connie returned _A Journal of the Plague Year_ to the library, and hoped that her next check-out wouldn't give rise to such uncomfortable questions. Perhaps, she reasoned, there would be some contingency in place for when humanity achieved independence. Still, it seemed hard to dispute that they were at a disadvantage.

She browsed the library shelves under Mrs Lezner's supervision, in search of some lighter reading. Lighter in tone and also by weight, as the wealth of available literature made her reluctant to commit to a single tome for too long. She wanted to broaden her horizons before she thought about going in-depth.

"Let me know if there's anything particular you're after," Mrs Lezner assured her, "and I can tell you if I've seen it."

This hadn't previously occurred to Connie. "I _was_ hoping to find... The Adventures of Gulliver? Or something like that. I'm afraid I don't know if that's the actual title."

Mrz Lezner brushed off the enquiry. "I can't say I've heard of it. I suppose you could ask around, though. Someone might have a copy in their house, if one exists."

"Oh... thanks." Connie stared at the newer books, which appeared more digestible. "Is there anything you'd particularly recommend?" At Mrs Lezner's suggestion, she ended up leaving with a couple of post-gem novellas, written by previous residents.

On her way home later that day, she chanced across Buck Dewey lingering in the square adjoining the civic hall.

"We meet again, Connie," he greeted her, and nodded at the books she was carrying. "You know, you're not going to find the truth in those books."

"What do you mean?" Initially caught off guard, Connie thought again. "These are fiction books."

Buck calmly stared at her, unblinking. "You're saying fiction can't point the way to a higher truth?"

Confused, she squinted back at him. "Isn't that what _you're_ saying?"

Her interlocuter smirked. "Not really. Only that the more elucidatory books are usually found in private collections."

Connie tried her best to decode this statement. Perhaps Buck Dewey knew the location of a secret book? She didn't trust herself to question him on this without it being painfully obvious. Instead, she asked what he was doing in the square.

Buck locked eyes with her. "This is the centre of the settlement," he asserted. "Not geographically, but in a truer sense. You can learn a lot by waiting in a place like this." Gazing off into the distance again, he changed tack. "But to be more precise, I'm waiting for Jenny. She's coming here once she's finished at the education centre."

"She's still there? Doing what?"

Buck stared at her again, his expression still neutral. "Compulsory extra credit."

From the sound of it, Connie's mother was exerting her authority by imposing detention. Connie winced apologetically.

"It's fine," Buck declared mildly. "When a new educator comes to the settlement, there's an inevitable testing of boundaries that takes place. I don't blame you for your mom's actions. Come to that, I don't blame her either. She's simply enacting the role apportioned to her in life's cosmic drama, as are we all."

"Well..." Connie faltered, philosophically outpaced. "I'd better leave you to it. I hope Jenny isn't kept back too long."

"We learned a long time ago that a teacher's commitment to punishment ends when it eats into their own time. She'll be fine."

Connie wondered whether her mom's disciplinarian streak would be more sustained than the older kids were accustomed to. Still, she refused to involve herself in the situation. Instead, she asked before parting with Buck, "Do you have a book about a man called Gulliver?"

"I don't have any interesting books," Buck replied, smiling as if at a private joke. Halfway across the square, she glanced back and he was still watching.

* * *

Connie was by this point at least on nodding terms with some of the neighbours. Vidalia in particular would flag her down for a chat at any opportunity. She ignored the gulf of age and experience to address Connie as if they were equals — an inversion of social convention which Connie felt unable to reciprocate. Vidalia would enquire after the status of the produce growing from the seeds she had given them, offering recipes and advice, and Connie would respond in bland platitudes, feeling guilty for not contributing more.

On one occasion she was convinced to come into Vidalia's house to have a look at some paintings. "I've had to improvise over the years," Vidalia explained, "in terms of pigments. It's a case of whatever you can lay your hands on."

"They're very... unusual," Connie ventured. A room of the house had been given over for use as a studio and gallery, with a variety of paintings hung on the wall and more propped up in a corner. The paintings themselves seemed to range in style from the representational to some more experimental works. There were ships at sea, and impossible cityscapes. She gazed at a depiction of a bearded man astride a winged unicorn, trying to make sense of it.

"That one's just whimsy," Vidalia informed her. "I was figuring some things out."

"Right..." Connie turned her attention away. "How about this one here? I like the symmetry."

The painting showed a boat on a lake, the peaceful landscape beyond reflected beneath it with only a subtle distortion.

"That's my husband," Vidalia said. Observing Connie's expression, she clarified: "I mean, that was his boat. He lived by a lake, and brought in fish for the settlement. I painted this as a memorial."

Since Yellowtail was alive and well, Connie assumed there was some grander artistic meaning to Vidalia's statement. "A memorial... for his career? His old home?"

Vidalia stared darkly at the pristine landscape. "For the lake. By the time Yellowtail left to come and live here, it was drying up. For all we know it's gone now."

Connie wasn't sure what to say. "Well... you certainly did a good job preserving it. It looks like a nice place."

"That's the power of art for you. Art is the one thing that marks us out as a higher life form," Vidalia asserted. "Gems like art and music just as much as we do. So we're not as different as some might have you believe."

"Is that so? I'd never thought about it." Connie thought back on her journey. "When we came to live here, we passed through a gem facility, but I didn't see any..."

Vidalia waved a hand dismissively. "That wouldn't have been a place with cultural significance. I don't know where they show their art. But I know they take an interest. Sometimes they accept submissions from the settlement. Music, pictures, that sort of thing. Usually portraits of Pink Diamond. I think your teacher gave them one of her compositions once."

Connie was wide-eyed. "Do they have any of your art?"

Vidalia shrugged. "I worked on a painting when I was younger, but in the end I hung onto it. It wasn't quite right." She frowned, eyeing the stack of canvases in the corner. "I don't even know if they _like_ pictures of Pink Diamond. It's not like she could keep them all. People just like to play things too safe."

"This is a good likeness of Onion," Connie said. "I'm not sure if I understand the background?" The boy was floating in the night sky, and looked like he was being struck by several types of lightning.

"It's supposed to be a nexus of all the energies that went into his creation. The living power of humanity comes up from the ground to intersect with the authority of gemkind, and they are united by the power of fate which is outside of us all."

"I see," said Connie, who didn't. She was wondering by now whether she should have asked more about the painting Vidalia had rejected as unsuitable, but the moment seemed to have passed. Besides, the portrait of Onion reminded her that she was in his home territory, and her limited interactions with the child were enough to make her nervous of staying too long.

* * *

True to PeeDee's description, Onion had yet to break his silence in the classroom. He spent most of the time running around with a small group of the younger children, who appeared to be in his thrall. As far as Connie could tell, they dedicated their spare time to pushing the boundaries of mischief. It seemed that Onion specialised in acts that were more strange than harmful, with the result that the adults found themselves at a loss as to how to respond.

Connie's dad was able to furnish her with an example. One day, so the story went, somebody noticed the number 13 had been painted on the henhouse. The following day, a 12 was daubed on a different part of the structure. Nobody had seen the vandal at work, so it must have happened overnight. Onion was questioned a number of times, but remained characteristically silent. Still, the painted numbers decremented day by day, and people were getting a little nervous. Vidalia was instructed to make sure he stayed in his room overnight, but to no avail. Eventually the peacekeeper (Mr Maheshwaran's predecessor) took it upon herself to occupy Vidalia's house and keep an eye on the boy herself. Still, the following morning, the next number had appeared. So at least one of his young acolytes was also in on the scheme. (Either that or it was never Onion in the first place, but this prospect was never given serious consideration.)

As the numbers ticked down toward zero, and people wondered what on earth was going to happen, Mr Dewey called for the entire henhouse to be given a new coat of paint, and the numbers were obliterated. This, he hoped, would mark an end to the game.

But as if nothing had happened, Onion (or an accomplice) painted the next number, three.

Mrs Lezner spent a substantial proportion of the day lecturing the entire class on the importance of chickens and their eggs to the community. They were sensitive creatures, she explained. If something were to happen to the chickens, there might never be cake again.

The next day, number two.

A search for paint was conducted in Vidalia's house. Vidalia being a keen painter, the search was very much fruitful, but the suggestion that her paints be confiscated was met with acrimony and led nowhere.

The number one, right above the door of the henhouse like an exclamation mark. Whatever the numbers were counting down to was dangerously imminent. The peacekeeper intended to conscript a posse to patrol the area overnight, but the campaign had been cunningly scheduled to coincide with a busy harvest, and people weren't in the mood for staying up all night. Still, she valiantly commandeered a room in a nearby house which overlooked the henhouse, vowing to catch the miscreants in the act.

Unfortunately the peacekeeper couldn't stave off sleep forever, and she awoke in her chair to see the last few numbers painted over in the original colour, and replaced with a great elliptic zero low down on the side wall.

People cautiously approached the henhouse. The chickens were already awake and had wandered out into the settlement, and much time was wasted chasing them around trying to see whether they were safe. Certainly nothing was awry inside the henhouse. Sure enough, when darkness came and the chickens returned home, every one was present and accounted for. Nothing wrong with any of them. Egg production unaffected. The citizens puzzled over the nature of the prank, which seemed to defy explanation.

...until the following day, when a childish painting of a chicken was daubed on the side wall, sitting on what was not a zero but an egg.

* * *

Connie's dad had heard this story from Barbara Miller. Connie was slightly uncomfortable to hear it herself, as it involved the old peacekeeper and thus seemed to teeter on the precipice of a forbidden topic. Connie wondered whether her dad had discussed the circumstances of his predecessor's departure with Barbara, or with Mr Dewey. He never really spoke about work — she had never entirely understood what he actually did on a day-to-day basis — but Connie had concluded that he wasn't working as closely with Mr Dewey as he had with the civic leader of settlement P5T7. Her main evidence for this was her realisation that his Zircon meetings were taking place at their house, instead of the civic hall.

She had returned home one afternoon from a particularly short day at the education centre, and heard the sound of voices emanating from an open window. One voice was her dad's, and the other was vaguely familiar but difficult to place. After a few moments' hesitation on the doorstep, she realised that while the speaker wasn't known to her, the voice was: a Zircon. At this distance she couldn't make out words, but the strained officious tone carried a faint echo of the gem that used to meet with her father in the old days, and whom she had indirectly encountered on a handful of occasions.

This presented a dilemma. Clearly a meeting was taking place inside, potentially of a top secret nature. They might not appreciate being intruded upon. Connie had also resolved, for the sake of her own peace of mind, not to involve herself in whatever the gems had been trying to investigate in the settlement. There could be no benefit to listening in.

None whatsoever.

In a quiet feat of mental gymnastics, she decided that there would be no harm in going to see how the allotment was doing. To do so, it would only be reasonable to walk around the side of the house. Slowly and quietly, so as not to make a nuisance out of herself.

The voice became more distinct as she approached the window. "...assure you the petty squabbles of rival food vendors are of little interest to the Diamond Authority. What about the education centre? Has your wife detected any signs of subversive activity?"

"She's had some back-talk from a couple of the kids, but that's really quite usual at that age..."

"Believe me," the Zircon sniffed, "I'm aware that humans pass through an immature phase. But that shouldn't be an excuse to neglect any detail."

"Really, it'd be a lot easier if you could just tell me what..."

"If I revealed details of our suspicions, that could compromise your investigation by introducing a bias. The reports have to come from you. Plus, I need to know you're not just telling us what we want to hear."

Connie stooped as she crept past.

"Let's get back to Barbara Miller," the Zircon continued. "Who does she associate with when she isn't working?"

The voice became muffled as Connie rounded the corner. She abandoned her plan of tending the allotment and decided it would be better to go for a walk, rather than letting it be known she had been anywhere near the house.

She took two things from this snatch of overheard conversation. Firstly, it confirmed that she hadn't misinterpreted or misunderstood the situation. There really was an active investigation still taking place in this settlement. And secondly, the gems didn't even trust their own appointees in the civic administration. Everyone but Connie's dad was frozen out.


	7. Wrong Notes

Although Connie remained on amiable enough terms with some of the other children in her class, she couldn't shake the idea that they were keeping her at arm's length. When school was over, the kids would go off in their own established friendship groups, none of which had yet shown any signs of embracing her. She felt no less an outsider than when she had first arrived, and wondered whether this had something to do with who her parents were, or was just an inevitable consequence of being a newcomer at this age.

Even PeeDee, her first classroom acquaintance, had grown somewhat distant since she had apparently committed an inadvertent faux-pas.

("Is your first name short for something?" she had asked.

"Yes," he had replied, in a flat tone which did not invite any follow-up questions. He hadn't spoken to her for the rest of the day.)

Unwilling to compromise her own dignity by trying to insinuate herself into a less-than-receptive peer group, Connie instead dedicated some of her spare time after class to exploring the settlement and surrounding area. She'd first done her best to get the layout of the streets, and later ventured up the hill at the end of the peninsula, which in addition to containing the windmill, was fenced off as a pasture for goats. In the other direction, she had walked inland to follow the small network of tracks around some of the fields, which were largely taken up with wheat and maize. There were a couple of apiaries situated at strategic points, and she was careful not to venture too close and disturb the bees.

The days were growing shorter, which kept her from going too far out — it wouldn't do to get lost after sunset and cause a whole lot of bother for her parents. Still, one day when there was a break in classes and a miraculous lack of errands to be run, she determined to set out and explore the region all the way out to the boundary.

Rainclouds had recently blown through, and the grassy edges of the track were gently yielding underfoot. In the field, she could see cobs of maize spotted and streaked where dust had clung to the drying rain. She flashed back to a tedious evening spent helping to wash the powdery residue from pea pods, which of course had to be used in addition to their contents.

It was only as Connie got closer to her destination and the fields began to thin out that she was able to admit to herself what she was doing. Some part of her had been fixated on a childhood fear, and the prospect of exorcising it for good.

The ground was dry and cracked where she reached the end of the fields. The occasional weed poked through the soil. Connie paused, stooping to pick up a clod of earth and crumble it between her fingers before continuing. If she stared, she could just about picture the lines and ridges along which the land had once been cultivated — or perhaps it was just her imagination. Ahead, the ground became rocky and uneven, but otherwise featureless. She found herself slowing her pace, but pressed determinedly on.

Before long, Connie saw what she had been waiting for. A small triangular shape was visible in the distance, silently approaching in midair. It gradually resolved into a conical device of an unknown metal, which hovered a few feet off the ground and stared at her with an unblinking eye on its base.

"Attention, human!" it announced, louder than necessary. "The area beyond this point is not safe. Please return to your settlement immediately."

Connie stared back at it. Uncertainly, she leaned to the left and then to the right. The gemtech machine turned slightly to track her.

"Repeat: please leave this area as soon as possible!" it continued, startling her. "The ground may be unstable and there are other hazards which pose a danger to your fragile human body. Please remain in your settlement where you will be kept safe."

It was definitely the same kind of device she had encountered as a young child, but memory and her imagination had built it up into something much more intimidating. Much of its imagined menace was dissipated just by the fact that today she had known to expect it.

She slowly backed away while keeping her eye on the vigilant cone. It stared back, impassive. After she had gone a certain distance it, too, began slowly reversing away in the direction it had come from. It held eye contact with her for a few moments before turning around and speeding off into the distance.

* * *

On her way back, Connie saw the adults at work in one of the fields, reaping and sheafing wheat. She attempted some mental calculations regarding how much would be needed for the winter, but didn't have enough of a sense of the population size to draw any meaningful conclusion. There was no clue from watching the adults, either — nobody was working in a noticeably jubilant or dismayed fashion, they were just getting on with it.

"Hey there," a male voice hailed her as she drew level with a cart parked on the track. Its horse nibbled idly at a patch of dry grass.

She looked up to the driver's seat and saw the stableman. "Good afternoon, Mr DeMayo."

"Been out for a walk? It's gotta beat working the field."

"I've been trying to make the most of the light before winter," Connie responded. Then, in a tone of polite enquiry, "Why aren't you in the field with everybody else? Do you have to keep an eye on the horse?"

Mr DeMayo chuckled. "Nah, old Cindy here will stick by me as long as I keep the food coming. I was out there earlier, but I've had to load up most of the tools to take back. There's not going to be enough time to bring in the harvest until tomorrow, so the others are staying to make sure everything's secure by sunset."

Connie glanced at the sun, which was indeed getting low in the sky. She silently estimated the distance back to the settlement.

"I can give you a ride back if you don't mind waiting a few minutes," Mr DeMayo said, apparently reading her thoughts.

"Thanks, Mr DeMayo! I mean, as long as it's no trouble."

Connie quite liked Mr DeMayo. She'd been to look at the stables a couple of times and he'd let her help feed the horses. He was, as far as she was any judge, a better musician than Mrs Lezner, and she kind of wished she could have had guitar lessons instead of the pianoforte (but suspected that would have been vetoed.) And even though he was clearly one of the less formally-minded adults in the settlement, he had never suggested that she should call him by his first name. Connie considered this a courtesy in itself.

A young man approached from the field clumsily brandishing some scythes. "Thanks, Jamie," Greg said, climbing into the back of the cart to help load them up. "Have you seen either of the Maheshwarans out there? Can you let them know I'm dropping their daughter off at the settlement?"

Jamie mumbled something in the affirmative and dashed back into the field, where the sheaves of wheat were being methodically stacked.

"Busy day in the field?" she asked Greg as they set off.

"Yeah, we ended up a bit short-handed so everyone's had their work cut out. There's still the north field to be done once we've brought this lot in."

"Short-handed?" Connie asked. This seemed unusual. "Who didn't show up?"

"Well..." Greg shifted uncomfortably. "I wouldn't like to point fingers. I'm sure there was a good reason."

Was even Mr DeMayo worried she was some kind of tell-tale? It was frustrating, not to mention pointless — surely if her parents were helping work the field, they would already know who was meant to be there.

Still, she let the subject drop. "What's the yield looking like?" she asked instead.

"Pretty good!" Greg's smile dropped slightly. "Maybe not quite as good as last year. But it's close enough that it's hard to tell by eye. And there's still the maize to harvest, so it shouldn't be a bad winter. We'll get through."

There was an ambivalence in his tone that Connie tried to decode as they rode in silence for a minute.

"Have you lived in settlement B1C7 all your life, Mr DeMayo?" she asked.

"Not yet!" Greg replied, laughing, but failed to elicit more than a polite smile. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh... well, actually not at all. I moved here about twenty years back. I guess I can't really make that joke."

"Still," Connie suggested, "you must have seen some changes over the years."

"Oh, yeah," Greg nodded, before falling into silent contemplation. "Well, things change but they stay the same. Lots of people coming and going over the years, but it's always been pretty quiet in my little corner. I'll tell you what, you should have seen the stables when I first got here. The place was a wreck. But one year we decided enough was enough, and did the place up. How long ago was that now?" He frowned. "Huh... I guess I got old."

"Did... were the harvests better? Back then?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But there used to be more people back then, too. You've maybe noticed some of the houses aren't occupied now? So it all works out the same. I guess the gems know what they're doing."

"I guess they do," Connie blandly agreed.

There was another pause before Greg spoke again. "Did you go far on your walk?" he asked.

"Just out to the end of the fields," Connie said. "No further."

Greg nodded. "It can be..." He cut himself off and began again. "Living in the same settlement for years on end, not everybody's that way naturally. You've got to learn to be happy in your own space. That's harder for some people than others. I know there was a boy who went running off a few years ago, and they had to fetch him back."

"I heard about that." Connie pictured Lars defying the floating cone.

"But there's nothing else out there. It's best to stay here, and make the best of things. So... best not go walking too far, would be my advice."

Connie smiled. "Don't worry, Mr DeMayo."

"It is a shame, though," he said, almost to himself. "They say Pink Diamond has a real affinity with humans. Maybe she... maybe if she visited the settlements herself she'd understand..."

"Who's to say she doesn't?" Connie pointed out. "Visit, that is. There must be lots of settlements, she couldn't go everywhere."

They rode on in silence. It seemed better to drop the subject. And yet...

"It's... strange, to think of Pink Diamond as real, and not just a picture on the wall," she admitted. "She must have seen so much. They all must have."

"Yeah, it's kind of intimidating!" Greg smiled. "Being watched over by such powerful beings. Still, we humans aren't so bad, when we put our minds to it. We gotta stick together, right?"

"Absolutely," Connie confirmed, and fell silent for a short while. There was a sense that they had been treading the boundary of a forbidden topic, but such was the innate approachability of Mr DeMayo that she hadn't worried about giving offence.

They passed some low shrubs as they reached the crest of the hill above the settlement. The cart's shadow extended down the incline before them.

"You're a budding musician, I've heard?" Greg enquired.

"Oh... well, I've been taking some lessons on the pianoforte. I don't know that I'd call myself a musician yet."

"I don't envy you," Greg declared. "I've had a few goes on that thing but I could never get on with it the same as my guitar. It's harder to find the right notes, you know."

Connie had observed Greg playing guitar, his hand shifting almost at random to form the different chords. "What do you mean? The notes are all on the keyboard in order."

"Well..." Greg considered. "Maybe that's the problem. It's not about having _all_ the notes, it's more about having the _right_ ones. I prefer to have the next chord right where I need it, not just set out in a neat alphabetical order. To me, that's not how music works." He stared into the sky, thoughtful. "I think it's the same with life, in a way. Right? You can't just put everything in order and expect it to make sense. You gotta adapt to what life throws at you, and see where the notes take you."

Connie looked over the side of the cart at the ground moving beneath her. "I do seem to keep missing the right notes myself, so maybe you've got a point."

"Aw, I'm sure you're doing fine," Greg said, backpedalling. "Don't pay too much attention to my sour grapes. I've been playing guitar since I was a kid, so it's what I'm used to. Took me a long time to get good at that, too, so you've just gotta keep at it."

"I suppose so." By now they were drawing into the settlement and approaching the stables. "Thanks for the lift, Mr DeMayo."

"Hey, don't mention it!" Greg directed the horse — Cindy, wasn't it? — into the building and parked the cart. He climbed down from his seat and held up a hand to help Connie down.

"Hey, mister horse man." Connie peered out of the cart to see who had spoken. "Oh — hey, Connie," the voice added. It was Vidalia, lounging in a folding chair. She waved, abstractedly.

"Connie was out walking and ended up by the south wheat field," Greg explained. "You know, where we were working."

Vidalia was dismissive. "I'm sure you all managed just fine. It's not like we'll starve, anyway. No," she announced, "I just came to talk about your contribution to the festival."

Greg glanced at Connie, looking slightly pained. "Eh, it was nice catching up with you, Connie, but I'd better let you get on. Take it easy, won't you?"

"Sure thing, Mr DeMayo." She looked uncertainly at Vidalia before retreating back outside into the waning daylight.

The thing was, Barbara Miller was in charge of organising the harvest festival. Connie knew for a fact that Vidalia was not involved.

* * *

After dinner, Connie sat on her bed staring at a book of music which she had convinced Mrs Lezner to let her borrow, after plucking up the courage to ask in the first place. She'd been curious about the book of sonatas, which had never been brought out during her pianoforte lessons, so she made sure to notice it when Mrs Lezner was rooting around for a different book and ask about it.

"We've got a few of them," Mrs Lezner said. "These are actually published by the gems. To be perfectly honest, they're mostly a bit beyond me."

They proved to be beyond Connie as well, especially the higher-numbered ones — full of confusing time signatures and seemingly chaotic melodies. She'd tried picking out just the right-hand notes to try and make some sense out of them, and had the vague sense that the discordance might resolve itself if it was played correctly. But the whole piece was so counterintuitive that it could take months, years of practice.

So she'd borrowed the book in order to study it further in her own time. Now, she was questioning the value of doing this when she didn't have an instrument of her own to practice on.

She flipped back to the first page. 'Composed through the patronage of the illustrious Pink Diamond', it read in an extravagant cursive script. There was no further attribution. She supposed this was gem music. It would certainly explain the difficulty: they must have years and years to practice.

Connie abandoned the book. Her mind was on other things. Her resolution to stop worrying about the mystery of settlement B1C7 was easier made than adhered to, especially when everybody persisted in behaving so mysteriously. She wanted to make a list of things she'd learned, but it was hard to find a starting point to put her thoughts in order. Also, she didn't have a spare piece of paper on which to write such a list. And even if she did, it would be a transparently bad idea to produce such physical evidence of her suspicions in the first place.

She decided, here and now, to at least try and make the list in her head, and get her thoughts in order.

So. Point one: something was going on in the settlement. The gems had been actively investigating, searching through houses, and had relocated the peacekeeper and one of the teachers at short notice.

This in itself posed questions. Were they both sent away for the same reason? Either the gems suspected that the peacekeeper was complicit in whatever was going on, or that she was just incompetent. In either case, it became a mystery why the gems had appointed her in the first place. Was there another possibility Connie was neglecting?

Everybody in the settlement studiously avoided talking about either of these people. (Perhaps nobody in settlement P5T7 ever talked about Connie and her family any more.)

Point two: there were signs that some people didn't respect the authority of the gems, or the conventions of society in general. Lars was open in his lack of reverence for the Diamond Authority, and several other people had said questionable things in Connie's presence. In some cases they had immediately retracted their statements out of apparent concern that Connie would report on them. Priyanka had complained about the attitudes of the senior grade students. Could this be due to improper or negligent teaching by her predecessor?

A counterpoint to point two: the gems would not have been searching people's houses for bad attitudes. It had to be something real, something physical. Surely the gems had better things to be doing with their time than policing cynicism.

Connie flipped absently through the book of sonatas, picking out a strangely atonal motif which repeated through one of the pieces. A, B, up to E, back down to F, and then the adjacent E. It repeated like a mantra through the composition. She closed the book.

Point three: somebody was hiding something, physically hiding something, and nobody was above suspicion. Not even Mr Dewey.

She stood up, put the music book down on top of the bookshelf, paced up and down the room a few times and sat back down.

Point four. There was something indefinably strange about Buck Dewey. Connie couldn't shake the idea that he either knew something that she didn't, or was making fun of her.

Point five. Onion was even stranger, and she had noticed him often enough in unusual places that she suspected he might be following her around.

Connie collapsed back onto the bed with a disgruntled sigh, and abandoned her enumerated list. It was futile — even the people who weren't suspicious were suspicious. If even harmless old Mr DeMayo was having covert meetings with the unpredictable Vidalia, how could Connie possibly hope to narrow it down?

And a final point: if her dad didn't succeed where the old peacekeeper failed, would that Zircon have them all removed from the settlement as well?


	8. Local History

"Today I thought we might cover some local history," Mrs Lezner announced. The bulk of the harvest was complete and lessons were back into full swing — although they were starting later in the mornings as the days shortened.

"I have here a book from the library which covers some of the history of settlement B1C7," she continued. "Unfortunately, not all of the information in the book can be verified. It's more a compilation of stories that have been passed down by word of mouth. Some years ago, somebody had the good idea to get everything written down for posterity."

She opened the book and paced around the front of the room in extreme slow motion as she narrated. "So, what you may not know is that humans lived here even before humanity came under the protection of the Diamond Authority. It's believed that people sailed here across the sea from far away, to exploit the resources of this land. Unfortunately the name of this original colony has been lost to time, but it was eventually redesignated as settlement B1C7 under the gems. Still, there are some remaining signs of the settlement's origins. Can anybody name one?"

There was a brief silence while the students inspected their desks.

Mrs Lezner inclined her head and looked at them with mock indignation. "I know it's early, class, but this is an easy one. Come on, I'll give you a clue: it's very tall..."

"The windmill," they dutifully chorused.

"That's right. Except that in the old days it wasn't a windmill, but a lighthouse. It was used to signal ships at sea and keep them out of danger. Of course, there's no need for lighthouses any more, but back then it was very important. There's an illustration here of how the lantern at the top looked before it was removed." She brandished the relevant page, briefly. "A lot more has changed since the establishment of the settlement, though. Most of the original houses and buildings have been improved or completely replaced. According to the stories, the gems used to bring deliveries of building materials for the improvement of the settlement. This was a long, long time ago, generations before even your grandparents. The gems brought stone, bricks and planks, and the humans worked together on the construction of many of the buildings you still see today."

Mrs Lezner smiled up at the portrait on the wall. "Pink Diamond wanted the best for the humans that were now in her care. The buildings people used to live in were too cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, and didn't even have running water. There's a lot about our homes that it's easy to take for granted."

Connie stared blankly at the inscrutable benevolence of Pink Diamond's painted expression.

"But the innovations didn't end there!" Mrs Lezner declared, thumbing through the book. "Over the years and decades since then, various clever people have worked with the gems' co-operation to build things to make our lives easier. Of course the windmill is the most obvious and striking example. That put an end to years of manual work grinding wheat. Later, the establishment of the bakery led to a huge increase in free time for everyone who'd had to spend their own time making..." Mrs Lezner hesitated. Her face twitched slightly as competing expressions battled it out.

PeeDee had raised his hand.

Her decision reached, she faced the boy. "Yes, PeeDee? Did you have a question?"

PeeDee put his hand down. "You said the windmill saved us lots of menial labour grinding wheat. But do you know what could have done this just as effectively, without having to spend time and resources converting the lighthouse?"

Mrs Lezner glowered. "PeeDee, that isn't the kind of question I..."

"The humble potato." PeeDee leaned back in his seat, satisfied.

"PeeDee, this is neither the time nor place for politics. Please don't interrupt the lesson again unless you have a real question. Now, where was I? Yes, there have been plentiful innovations in our settlement, not least of which is the typesetting machine housed in our library in this very building. It was designed and built nearly a hundred years ago, prior to which all new books had to be written out by hand. Most have since been re-made with the machine, but check your parents' bookshelves — there are still a few handwritten books here and there. The rest of them have gone to other settlements, when people have moved away. It's good to use the opportunity to share knowledge and culture with other humans."

Connie realised she hadn't thought to check whether the few books they had brought with them from settlement P5T7 were already represented in the library, and made a mental note to do so.

"The typesetting machine," Mrs Lezner continued, "is completely unique. There's not another one like it in all of the world. We don't know enough about how books were printed in the old days to copy the same methods, so the machine was designed completely from scratch. Then, the design had to be approved by the gems. Can anybody tell me why? Connie?"

"To make sure it was safe," Connie answered. Since Mrs Lezner had realised that Connie could be relied upon to respond to questions in class, the teacher alternated between calling on her too often, and making guilty attempts to leave her alone.

"Precisely," Mrs Lezner nodded. "We mustn't forget that humanity's reckless overuse of technology was a major contributing factor to the decline of our planet. Now, everything has to be authorised by the gems so they can be sure we're not doing any more harm. The real danger is with machines that need wood to burn. Wood is a very precious resource, so we mustn't use any more than we need to cook our food and keep warm in the winter."

Even paper was a luxury, Connie remembered.

* * *

Later, when the morning's lessons had concluded, PeeDee intercepted Connie on the way out of the classroom. "Hey, Connie. We never got around to showing you the potato manufactory like Ronaldo offered. Do you want to come round for dinner after school?"

"Yes!" Connie exclaimed, seizing on the most significant social offer in the weeks since her arrival. Calming herself, she continued: "Yes, that would be great. But my parents will be expecting me home, so is it all right if I check with them first?"

PeeDee shrugged. "Sure."

Connie turned on her heel and reversed her course back into the classroom, where Mrs Lezner was tidying her desk. "Mrs Lezner," she said, "I need to speak to my mother. Do you know whether that would be all right? I don't want to interrupt her."

"I think they're still going, but I'm sure her class will break for lunch any time now. You can go in and speak to her once they've come out." Sensing hesitance, Mrs Lezner added: "You can tell her I said you could go in."

Connie waited in the atrium, clutching the packed lunch that had been sitting under her bench since morning and was by now a little soggy. She could hear her mother's voice sporadically through the classroom door.

Eventually the door opened and the senior grade students filed out. The majority of them didn't react to her presence — Lars, by contrast, made a specific show of blanking her. Sadie gave a polite wave, and finally Buck Dewey shot her a knowing look as he sauntered past.

Connie knocked gently at the door as she entered the classroom. It was, unsurprisingly, the mirror image of the junior class. There was no pianoforte, but another Pink Diamond painting adorned the wall, apparently by a different artist but still displaying the look of enigmatic benevolence that was customary in such images. Attached to the same wall were several large pieces of paper, each featuring a slogan written in her mom's handwriting:

**AN EMPTY VESSEL MAKES THE LOUDEST SOUND**

**WISDOM IS THE DAUGHTER OF EXPERIENCE**

**WASTE NOT, WANT NOT**

One of the blackboards was given over to a tally entitled 'DEMERITS'. It showed five demerits for Barriga, two for Dewey, and three for Pita, J.

This was grim enough in isolation, but it was the other board that gave Connie a sinking feeling. The diagrams and questions indicated that this morning's lesson had been in trigonometry. Meticulously labelled shapes and angles were laid out with a quiet efficiency, the unknown variables demanding to be wrested from obscurity through cold logic.

Connie had _done_ trigonometry, back when she was being home-schooled. She already knew how to approach the questions on the board. She'd been killing time this past few weeks, but there was no escaping the fact that she belonged in this class, not the junior grade. It was only a matter of time until she was pressured into moving up, and even if she wasn't, could she really justify wasting school time on things she'd already learned over and over? It was strange — she'd had her mom as a teacher for years without questioning it, but right now the thought was making her anxious.

Priyanka looked up from her desk. "Connie. I wasn't expecting to see you. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, mom." Connie approached the desk. "PeeDee Fryman invited me to come round for dinner after school, but I said I'd ask for permission first."

Mrs Maheshwaran contemplated this. "That should be all right," she said, "as long as you are polite to Mr Fryman and don't accept too much food."

Connie nodded. "Of course." (Who did her mother think she was?)

"Ronaldo Fryman is a reasonably well-mannered student," Priyanka said quietly, as if to reassure herself. She smiled at Connie. "I must think of a small gift to thank the Frymans for their hospitality. It's nice to see... it's nice that you have the opportunity now to socialise with people your own age."

"It's been very different living here," Connie admitted. "It's been interesting." Her eyes widened. "Oh! I don't mean..."

"It's fine," Priyanka reassured her. "There's a lot more for you to do here." She gestured at the bag in Connie's hand. "What did your father pack for your lunch?"

Connie had a look in the bag to remind herself. "I've got bread with lettuce, beans and... some kind of pickle. Tomato? It's kind of spilling out."

Priyanka lifted her own lunch bag onto the desk with a smile. "What a coincidence," she said. "Would you like to have your lunch in here with me?"

Connie smiled back. "Sure." She took a seat opposite her mother and they ate their food in companionable silence.

* * *

At the end of the afternoon's lessons, Connie and PeeDee waited for Ronaldo. "He likes to be the one to give people the tour of the manufactory," PeeDee explained, "I'll never hear the end of it if we go on without him."

They leaned against the wall in the atrium. Through the classroom door, Priyanka's raised voice was briefly audible.

"Your mom takes no prisoners, right?" PeeDee cracked an awkward smile.

"She can be quite stern," Connie admitted. "But she's a good teacher. She knows an awful lot."

PeeDee nodded toward the door. "I bet nothing prepared her for _that_ awful lot."

Finally the class let out, and Ronaldo trotted over to them as the other students made their way outside. "Connie!" he happily exclaimed. "Did you accept my brother's invitation?"

"Yes, I did," Connie replied. Ronaldo already seemed overexcited, and she quietly hoped this would not escalate into hysteria.

"Alright, let's go!" Ronaldo grinned, and led the way out. A crisp breeze greeted them as they made their way toward the sea.

"You should feel privileged to glimpse the inner workings of our shop," Ronaldo announced as they walked along the boardwalk. "Many do not see beyond its hallowed portal."

"Well, I appreciate the invitation," Connie said. "It's nice to have the opportunity to see people outside of class. Moving here has been a bit different to how I expected it would be. Where I grew up there was... well, there was nobody my age, and ever since..."

"Here we are!" Ronaldo interrupted, unlatching the bottom half of the door. "Come on in!" He gestured for Connie to go first, and the three of them entered the kitchen.

At least, that was the most obvious way to describe the room. A broad furnace sat along the nearest wall, with a number of metal tubes leading to vents going back outside. Three metal vats sat on top of it. Opposite, there was a wooden countertop, above which numerous knives and other strange-looking instruments were hanging. The room was uncomfortably warm. Connie kept her distance from the furnace, which seemed to be giving out an astonishing amount of heat (not to mention a powerful greasy smell.)

Seemingly unaffected by the heat was Mr Fryman, who sat on a stool retrieving potatoes from a sack and rinsing them in a bucket of water. "Oh, hey Connie," he said, looking up. "Glad you could make it. I hope you brought your appetite — we have dinner early so the kitchen will be free for orders."

"Thank you for having me," Connie dutifully replied.

"Feel free to have a look around in here, but don't burn yourself. There's boiling oil in those pans."

PeeDee directed her to the counter. "Here, see. We use all these different tools to get food ready for people as quickly as possible. They're specifically designed for slicing the potatoes into different shapes, dispensing the right amount of salt..."

"See those handles sticking out of the pans?" Ronaldo cut in. "There's a mesh inside, so we can lift out the food and still keep the oil! You just have to wear special gloves."

Three mismatched fabric mittens hung from the counter, showing varying degrees of scorch marks.

"What do these pipes do?" Connie asked, indicating the furnace.

"An astute question!" Ronaldo nodded. "These help us regulate the air coming in and going out. My father has been working for years on the most efficient way to burn wood. See how there are two doors in the stove? The two chambers facilitate a multi-stage process by which charcoal..."

"Sorry... I'm sorry to interrupt, Ronaldo," Connie said. "But I'm not used to it being so hot. Is there anywhere else you can tell me about it?"

They ended up adjourning to a table in a room in the back which linked to a pantry filled with sacks of potatoes. Connie listened while Ronaldo gave an exhaustive history of combustion, which was only curtailed by Mr Fryman bringing a pan of food to the table. PeeDee promptly retrieved four bowls and spoons from a shelf. "We usually have dinner here," he explained. "You've never seen a cleaner kitchen than the one at home."

"Dinner is served," Mr Fryman announced. "Help yourself, Connie."

Connie hadn't been quite sure what to expect, but it looked like some kind of stew. There were potatoes, yes, but also carrots and some other vegetables, and from the smell of it there was a hint of some type of meat. She carefully spooned what seemed like an appropriate helping into her bowl.

"It smells good," she said. "What is it?"

"Labskus! It's an ancient Fryman recipe. Everything a human needs, in one dish." Mr Fryman ladled out a portion for himself.

"How interesting. Can you tell me what's in the recipe?"

Mr Fryman grinned. "Simple: a potato, and whatever's left over from last night's labskus!" He laughed heartily, then announced: "I'm going to take mine in the kitchen. You kids have a good time."

Connie was fairly sure Mr Fryman was exaggerating, as the vegetables in her dish seemed fresh. The three of them quietly enjoyed their food for a couple of minutes.

"I must admit," Connie said between mouthfuls, "I still don't quite understand how the food manufactories work. I mean, how you make food for other people every day and still keep things fair."

"Look at it this way," PeeDee offered, "people spend all day farming food that's gonna be eaten mostly by other people, and nobody minds that. It's not so different."

Ronaldo wagged a finger at Connie and took a somewhat patronising tone. "The foundation of human progress is co-operation. We help ourselves by helping others."

"Yes, obviously I don't disagree with that," Connie insisted, "I'm just curious about the organisation of it. If everybody gets a share of the harvest, how do you know someone won't also come here for dinner all the time and end up with more than everyone else?"

Ronaldo shrugged. "It's never been a problem. People are very civic-minded."

"If they did, we just wouldn't serve them," PeeDee remarked. "Or we'd remind them how much they've had. But it's the other way round, really. People are generous to us."

"It's because they appreciate our contribution to the settlement," Ronaldo opined. "There's a big meeting with Mr Dewey every year to decide what proportion of the harvest goes to the bakery, Mr Pita and us, but a lot of our ingredients are donated from people's allotments."

Connie spooned up the last of her meal. "It's a pretty impressive system, however it works. Back where I grew up, we had to bake our own bread, make our own clothes, everything."

Ronaldo snorted. "Well, that's just inefficient. It's no wonder smaller settlements often fail. Without at least some centralisation of labour, everyone puts in twice as much work for a worse result."

"Is that true? About small settlements failing?"

PeeDee pushed his bowl away. "Seems that way. Only from what we know about people who've been relocated here."

"Never mind all that," Ronaldo said dismissively. "I'm sure Connie would like to see some of my science experiments. Isn't that right, Connie?"

Connie looked to PeeDee for guidance. "It's fine," he said. "We'll go and have a look."

PeeDee stacked their empty bowls near the edge of the table while Ronaldo strode into the pantry. "Down here," he said, pulling a rope embedded in the floor to lift a section of floorboards cut out as a trapdoor. "Mind your head!"

Connie watched as he descended a set of wooden steps which, were they any steeper, could only have been used as a ladder. "I didn't know you had a cellar in here," she said.

PeeDee walked past her and turned around to climb down the steps in reverse, which looked a safer method. "Yeah, quite a few buildings have them for storing fuel and whatnot," he said.

Connie peered down into the diminished light. After a moment, a warm glow emerged from the darkness as Ronaldo lit a pair of waxlights. Carefully, Connie descended the ladder.

She judged that the cellar did not extend as far as the kitchen area, but the space was still a little bigger than she was expecting. The ceiling, however, was low enough that she was compelled to adopt a bad posture. Nearest to the steps she had descended were numerous small sacks of firewood pellets. There was a slight dampness to the walls, and Connie stayed clear of them as she navigated through the space. The waxlights were mounted on a jutting section of brick wall, and were supplemented by light coming through gaps in the floorboards from upstairs.

There was a hint of a vaguely unpleasant smell which Connie could not identify.

At the far end of the cellar were some sets of wooden shelves covered with various paraphernalia — jars of soil, pieces of metal, stacks of paper and so forth. In between these, several wooden crates on the floor had some sorry-looking plants growing in them. A separate crate had numerous fungi emerging from its soil.

"Mushrooms?" Connie mused.

Ronaldo beamed. "They're a side project, really. They grow here and there in the wild, but why should we be waiting to stumble across them? It's absurd that we're not doing more to cultivate them, especially in spaces like this."

"Aren't some mushrooms bad for you?"

"Ha! That's an old wives' tale." Ronaldo shook his head. "No, the worst that can happen to you is that you lose consciousness... for a few days. Which I concede is quite serious, but that's only if you eat the wrong kind. These mushrooms are perfectly safe, I assure you. Would you care to try one?"

"Er, maybe later," Connie evaded. "And the other plants? More potatoes?"

The Fryman brothers glanced at each other. "Well, yes," Ronaldo admitted, "but that's only because we're so familiar with them. It could have been any plant. This was really an experiment on growing crops with artificial light." He looked briefly sheepish. "It's not been a great success."

Connie was dubious. "What's the point, though? You can just grow them outside. We're not about to run out of sunlight."

Ronaldo resumed his customary didactic tone. "You can't think like that when it comes to food science, Connie. If we place arbitrary limitations on our thought processes, how can we hope to do something new? We want to find out everything we can about the minimum requirements for cultivation."

"There could be reasons to grow stuff indoors," PeeDee pointed out. "It's more sheltered from the cold."

"Well," said Connie, "people grow plants on their windowsills. You need somewhere with windows, not a dark basement."

"No need to tell me," Ronaldo sighed. "Why is it that we live right next to a beach and yet I can't get the glass I need for my experiments? I've told Mr Dewey over and over but he doesn't want to hear it."

PeeDee gave Ronaldo an encouraging nudge. "Why don't you show Connie your soil samples?"

Ronaldo perked up once again, and Connie was struck with the notion that either PeeDee was mature beyond his years, or Ronaldo was immature beyond his own.

"This is big," Ronaldo boasted, gesturing to the array of soil jars. "I inherited this project from a fellow enthusiast who was unfortunately unable to complete it. These samples were gathered from the outermost field, at intervals of three years. I have pages of notes on their densities, water retention ratios, everything. Every year, I carry out a new series of tests. And the really exciting part: when it's time to take a new sample, we also take a little of the soil from each jar and use it to grow cress!" He grinned, triumphant.

Connie blinked. "It all sounds very... thorough. What are you hoping to find out?"

Ronaldo stared at her. "You've been to the outer fields, haven't you? You've seen how they're deteriorating. So not only are we tracking that, but we can see whether this deterioration continues in isolation! So far the results are pretty conclusive. The soil in each jar is just as good as when we dug it up, demonstrated by the measurements I've been taking. But look at the progression with the sample date." He pointed along the shelves, indicating the flow of time. "The further along you go, it loses more and more integrity. When you take it out and plant it, you get less and less yield from each sample."

So despite the evidenced decline, the deterioration of each sample had been halted. Connie frowned. "But nobody's been using this soil to grow anything. It stands to reason that it would be the same as when it was collected."

"Ha! We thought of that too," Ronaldo smugly replied, "which is why there's a reserved section of the field set aside for this experiment. Nothing's ever planted there either. No, the conclusion of these experiments is inevitable."

"We should be... keeping our soil in jars?"

"It's not the jars!" Ronaldo exclaimed. "There has to be something in the ground, taking the goodness out of the soil! Year after year it slowly gets worse, unless you take the soil out of the ground and isolate it. So what could it be?"

"I suppose," Connie said after a thoughtful pause, "we should be reevaluating how much we try to grow in those fields."

"Yeesh." Ronaldo rolled his eyes. "Did you come up with that theory all by yourself? You're not being scientific."

PeeDee interrupted. "Come on, don't be rude. Connie's a guest."

Rattled by Ronaldo's condescending tone, Connie thought again. "So... maybe the ongoing effect of pollution from the original human colony that used to be here."

Ronaldo squinted at her. "I _begrudgingly_ acknowledge the logical consistency of your hypothesis."

She shrugged. "Great."

"I also do not agree with it."

"Yes, I got that impression. Can we move on?" Connie was becoming eager to leave this cramped basement. "What about those pieces of metal? Are they part of an experiment?"

Again, Ronaldo's mood shifted abruptly. "You have to see this!" he enthused, retrieving a damp-looking box from one of the shelves. "It's the product of years of work."

He put the box down on the floor and opened it to reveal a bizarre arrangement of objects. About a dozen potatoes were arranged in a crescent. Every potato was pierced on both sides by sticks of metal, each of which went into the next potato so that they were all connected together. This arrangement culminated in a pair of very thin, flexible metal rods. Connie stared at the tableau of tubers, uncomprehending.

"I have long been of the opinion," Ronaldo announced, "that the benefits of the potato may lie beyond the simply nutritional. That there could be an intrinsic life energy in organic matter, waiting to be harnessed."

A dark pit opened in Connie's stomach.

As if in a dream, she watched as Ronaldo retrieved a gutted fish from an open jar of cloudy brine. The source of the smell which now invaded her nostrils.

"It was fresh yesterday, but it should still work," Ronaldo said, putting the fish down next to the box. "I hope so, anyway." He carefully bent the metal rods toward the fish and began to prod at its insides.

Nothing at first. But then, almost imperceptibly, the fish twitched.

Ronaldo laughed. "See?" He pushed the rods again, producing another small jump. "Something inside the potato makes it forget it's dead! This hidden energy could be the future of humanity. Imagine if we could create a sort of artificial muscle, and move it through potato power. Think of the machines we could build, and the labour we could save! Picture the..."

"Stop," Connie said. Ronaldo looked up at her, quizzical.

_Insane,_ she thought. _He has to be insane._ To have not only done this, but to be showing it off as if it was something to be _proud_ of.

To hoard food was taboo, yes. But this... _wasting_ food... this was beyond contemplation.

Against the odds, she had found it. This monstrous device was the dark secret of settlement B1C7.

PeeDee and Ronaldo were both staring at her by now. She tried to regulate her voice, "This... this is forbidden technology."

PeeDee made a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, Connie. Hey, it's just an experiment. It's just Ronaldo messing about."

Connie glanced frantically about herself, making sure she had a clear path to the exit. "There's no way the gems would allow this," she said. "It's unnatural. This is the sort of thing humans did in the past that got the world into this state." Her eyes widened. "Maybe this is why the fields are dying! What were you thinking!?"

PeeDee suddenly became very serious. "Oh, come on. Are you listening to yourself? Haven't you seen the technology the gems use? How is it fine when they do it but not for us?"

"Their technology is different," she shot back. "It works on different principles."

"And we know that because, what? They said so? And you just believe it?"

Ronaldo shook his head sadly. "Very disappointing, Connie. I had hoped you were a free thinker who could recognise progress, not just another mouthpiece for Diamond Authority propaganda."

"What are you suggesting!?" she exclaimed, aghast.

PeeDee jabbed a finger at her. "We're just asking you to think about things for yourself. So this invention could damage the settlement? And yet all the allotments closest to us are just fine, and it's the places furthest from here that are being affected? Come on, I know you know that doesn't make sense."

"Plus," Ronaldo admitted, "I only figured out how to make this thing work a few months ago, so there's that too."

"But it's wasteful," Connie insisted. "I know you've been trying to keep it secret from the gems."

"Nothing's good enough," PeeDee hissed, exasperated. "Is it!? We can barely feed ourselves, and yet whatever we do to try and improve the situation, there's always some reason why it's not allowed. And then we get blamed anyway! What did any one of us do to this planet?"

Connie had never seen PeeDee so animated. She carefully backed away. 

"The signs are all there," Ronaldo declared. "You just have to know what you're looking at. The gems aren't telling us the truth! They're hiding something from us!"

"They help us," PeeDee asserted, "only as much as they choose to. Did you never think that maybe they don't want us out of the settlements? That the current situation suits them just fine?"

"Lose your preconceptions!" Ronaldo boomed. "Open your mind to reality!" He and PeeDee looked imploringly at Connie, as if it were incumbent on her to concede on all points.

Connie stared at them. "I have to go," she said quietly. (She almost added, "don't try to stop me," but was reluctant to even acknowledge the concept.)

PeeDee hung his head. "You're making a mistake," he said. "But do whatever you want."

She scrambled back up the ladder, and hastily exited through the kitchen, muttering an awkward goodbye to a startled Mr Fryman. Outside, she took off down the boardwalk at a frantic sprint.

* * *

A couple of blocks inland, Connie stopped running and bent double, hyperventilating. She tried to will herself calm, and sat down in a patch of grass at the side of the road, her heart still pounding.

Before anything else, she needed to get things straight in her mind. Once she had her breath back, she got up and changed course down a side street. Creeping through the encroaching twilight, she found herself gravitating towards the civic hall, where the stage was prepared for the upcoming festival. A light was burning in one of the upper windows of the hall, but otherwise the place was deserted. Feeling a chill, she went round the back of the raised wooden stage and took shelter underneath. Here, she could think undisturbed.

Ronaldo's strange machine fit all the criteria she'd been looking for. They obviously knew it was forbidden technology, or else why would they be hiding it in the cellar? But it must give off an energy signature the gems could somehow detect, and they had been searching for it ever since. To protect the settlement.

Was that the only reason? Connie couldn't escape the logic of some of what PeeDee had said. What was the evidence that this had actually done any harm? Could the gems ever be mistaken about something like this? She didn't understand how the machine worked, but if Ronaldo was right, the same energy could exist in all animals, even in her. If so, wasn't this just a method of moving the energy around in a different way?

Connie had a vague understanding that the gems were different from other forms of life, not made from the same stuff. Maybe that was why their technology worked so differently. But maybe it meant they didn't understand everything about the inner workings of mortal creatures.

Was that an absurd thought, when gem-designed technology was what was keeping everyone healthy?

This was another thing that didn't make sense. The Fryman boys were clearly in the grip of some kind of paranoia. The gems did everything they could to keep people safe, making sure nobody starved or got sick. They had been protecting and advising humanity for more than two centuries. If all that was part of some kind of _trick_... what on earth would be the point of it?

She had to tell her parents. And yet, it was slowly dawning upon her, the only reason she was hiding under this stage was to avoid them. Why hadn't she gone straight home?

If she told them, something bad might happen to Ronaldo and PeeDee. But if she didn't, and her dad failed in his duties, then who knew what might become of her own family?

She sat in darkness, overwhelmed by the dilemma. _I need more information,_ she thought. _I don't have to tell them right away._

It was dark when she got home, but her mother still remarked: "You're back early. Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Connie replied through a forced smile. "I had a good time. I just started to feel a little tired."

"That's all right," said Doug, beckoning her into the cosy light of the drawing room where the two of them were sitting with some books. "We're having a quiet evening ourselves. It's been a busy few weeks for everyone. What did you have for dinner?"

"Some kind of stew," Connie said, sinking gratefully into an armchair. "I can't remember what they called it, but it was certainly filling."

"I can believe that," her dad smirked. "That whole family is obsessed with streamlining nutrition." He chuckled. "Admirable, really."

Connie smiled weakly. Inside, she had frozen with a sudden thought: did Mr Fryman even know what Ronaldo was up to? Who was in on it?

Priyanka looked up from the book she was perusing. "We'll be busy tomorrow helping with final preparations for the festival. I had hoped you would be able to volunteer to contribute a musical turn, but I've spoken to Mrs Lezner and she is of the opinion that you've yet to reach the right level. Perhaps you should use tomorrow to catch up on some practice."

Connie was too preoccupied to be bothered by the imposition. "Yes, ma'am." She looked around. "I might go up and read for a bit."

"Bring your book down here," her mother calmly responded, looking back down. "It's wasteful to have lights burning in two rooms. It's only going to get darker these coming months."

Connie reluctantly complied, and for the next hour or so, the family sat looking at their respective books while the clock mechanically counted out the seconds. Connie had picked out something called _Micromégas_ from the library. The slim volume had been printed on the typesetting machine, and she had been drawn in by the hand-illustrated cover depicting giants towering over the world. But now she couldn't focus on it, being consumed with the worry that her parents would observe some telltale sign in her demeanor and realise something was wrong. She muddled her way through the first chapter without really taking it in, and quickly found herself reading the same paragraphs over and over again, the scene in the manufactory basement replaying on a loop in her mind.

Wondering what she could have done differently.

Finally she put the book to one side, gave out a theatrical yawn, and excused herself for an early night.


	9. Onion, Flatbread & Soup

Connie had never quite understood why there was any reason for her to get up at the same time as her parents when they were the only ones with commitments for the day, but it was a rule her mother enforced without mercy. After washing and dressing, she joined her parents for a light breakfast of salted fish — a meal whose unhappy associations she did her best to ignore.

Mrs Maheshwaran presented her daughter with a key to the education centre. "Don't lose it," she warned. "Your father and I will be at the civic hall for most of the day, so come and find us if you need anything."

Connie set off warily through the settlement, hoping not to encounter PeeDee or Ronaldo. There was a general air of activity, and amongst other people she saw Barbara Miller, directing some men as they carried bunting and other supplies toward the civic hall.

Rounding a corner, Connie froze as she saw something that caught her completely off guard. Her dad's Zircon, striding purposefully in her direction. Before she could decide how to react, the gem walked past without paying her the slightest acknowledgement. The gem continued her businesslike march in the direction of the civic hall, walking alongside Barbara's team whilst successfully giving the impression of being totally separate from them.

Connie wondered what was the significance of this visit. Surely not a security meeting, or she'd be going to the house. So maybe some other kind of meeting, with Mr Dewey. Or with all of them.

Putting it out of mind, she carried on to the education centre and let herself in, wondering whether to lock the door behind her. She decided to leave it open in case of emergency, and sat herself down at the pianoforte in Mrs Lezner's classroom.

First, she practiced her scales. Then her arpeggios. Next, she ran through some of the simple tunes Mrs Lezner had written out for her to practice.

She stared at the keyboard for a while. Then she tried to remember some of the songs she'd heard people singing in Mr Pita's cafeteria, and see whether she could figure out how to play them.

She tried stretching her hand out to play the same tune on separate octaves, but that wasn't very comfortable. Then she found the note near the left end of the keyboard that resonated awkwardly through the whole instrument. Really the whole thing was in need of tuning — even if you were a virtuoso it might not sound that great.

Connie sighed. This was boring. She had thought it might be good for taking her mind off things, but it just felt like a waste of time.

She looked at Pink Diamond's canvas visage on the wall above her. "I wish I could ask you about some of this stuff." (Unsurprisingly, the painting remained silent.)

Maybe she could puzzle over some more of the music books from the gems. She stood up to open the pianoforte stool...

...and let out an undignified shriek as she realised Onion was sitting in the classroom.

"Onion!" she exclaimed tersely once she had steadied herself. "How long have you been in here!?"

The boy shrugged.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. You're not supposed to be here today."

Onion just stared at her. (_Of course,_ she thought.)

"Not playing with your little friends today?"

He shook his head.

"So you got bored too?"

Nod, nod.

"And you decided to come and listen to me playing music?"

Nod, nod.

"Because only art can free us from our concerns and struggles?"

Shake, shake.

"Oh. I suppose you don't really have any concerns or struggles." She sighed. "Stay young and innoc... carefree, Onion. That's my advice."

Onion stood up and beckoned for Connie to follow him. Then, he darted out of the room.

"What? Where are you going? I won't let you into the library..." She followed out to the atrium where he was waiting, and he exited the building, beckoning her again. "Fine, just give me a moment to lock up, please."

Onion gave no impression of caring whether she actually followed as he scampered away. Connie trailed awkwardly after him at an uncomfortably fast walk (but not quick enough to justify running) as he led her on a circuitous route through the settlement. They turned left enough times that they were about to end up back where they started, and Connie was convinced the boy had decided to amuse himself by wasting her time, but then he veered off between two houses and she had to follow him through a series of allotments.

Connie focused on not damaging any plants as she picked her way through. "You... oof... you shouldn't be taking shortcuts through here," she said, and looked around, guilty.

Things got worse when Onion casually strolled in through the back door of somebody's house.

"Onion!" Connie hissed, clinging to the door frame as she watched in horror. There was a direct view through the house and she saw Onion trot calmly through the kitchen, across a hallway and out of the front door, which closed behind him.

Realising she'd lose the trail if she went any other way, Connie steeled herself. There was no obvious sound of any occupant inside the house. She vigorously wiped her feet on the stone paving and gently kicked the outer wall to dislodge any mud from her shoes. Then, she abruptly darted through the house, keeping her head down and staring at the floor.

Outside the front door she found Onion, standing to one side and staring blankly at her. He turned on his heel and continued toward the sea front.

Connie looked frantically around the street, but it didn't look as if there had been anyone around to witness her trespass. "That wasn't fair!" she complained as she hurried to keep up.

They reached the boardwalk and Connie briefly forgot Onion's disrespectful shortcut, as worries of encountering the Frymans took precedence. But Onion hopped down onto the sand below, and they crept along out of view of the manufactories.

Near the bakery there was a man sitting and staring out to sea. Connie knew she'd seen him there before, a man with a billowing sand-coloured beard. At this distance, he showed no sign of noticing their presence.

"Isn't that your dad, Onion?"

Distant waves crashed onto the beach.

"I heard he used to be a fisherman. He had a boat, didn't he?"

Onion nodded.

"I didn't know anybody still sailed boats. They certainly can't around here. When we moved, they told us not to even go anywhere near the water. It must have been quite a change for him."

There was a quiet clatter behind her. Onion was gathering pebbles from underneath the boardwalk.

"He always looks a bit... glum. I suppose he misses being able to go out on the water? It must be tough."

The silence was punctuated by a series of distant thuds. Connie looked out to see what had usurped Onion's attention. Some way out, a strange translucent sea creature was stranded on the beach, its numerous thin tentacles trailing across the sand. Onion was throwing stones at it.

Connie regarded Onion's stoic expression. "I suppose he's been stuck on the land for years. For at least as long as... however old you are, anyway. It must be hard for you to see him like this..."

She winced as Onion scored a direct hit. The inert creature wobbled slightly but showed no sign of reacting. It had probably already died.

"Why did you bring me here, Onion? To show me that... you do have concerns and struggles?" She sighed. "I'm sorry if I seemed patronising when I said you didn't. I've been having some problems of my own, but that doesn't excuse it."

She looked out to the turbulent sea. "I suppose," she began, but when she turned round she saw that Onion was already climbing back up to the boardwalk and wandering off.

"Wait!" Connie cried. "Where are you going now?"

In no time, they had left the beach and abandoned Yellowtail to his silent ruminations. This time Onion took a more direct route that led to Sussex Road, where both of their houses were. "Oh! Wait here, Onion." Surprisingly the boy complied, and Connie darted into her house to retrieve a couple of apples from the pantry.

"Here you go," she said, handing one to Onion. He looked at the fruit and then at Connie with a hint of wariness, but then he smiled and began throwing the apple up into the air and catching it. He repeated this exercise as they walked to Onion's house, throwing the apple higher and higher until Connie worried it would fall on the ground and be spoiled.

Connie rapped on the door before Onion strolled straight past her into the house. (At least it was _his_ house this time.) Connie cautiously followed him. "Vidalia?" she called out. "I, uh, I've found your son."

But it turned out Vidalia wasn't home. "Huh. Maybe she really is working on the festival?" Onion looked quizzically at Connie and she made a mental note to be less vocally suspicious of people while in his presence, despite his apparent vow of silence.

Onion quickly lost interest and started kicking the apple around the floor like a ball. Connie had to stifle the urge to chastise him. She had given the apple to him, so if it ended up all bruised then that was his responsibility. Still, she felt she was gaining some insight into the boy's odd behaviour. His parents seemed a little... strange. All of this could be the natural consequence of an unusual upbringing. (She assumed it was unusual. She only had her own childhood as a reference point.)

Connie began eating her own apple as she watched his destructive antics. "Onion," she asked carefully, "do you think your mother would mind if I had a look around her painting studio?"

Onion shrugged, then continued ignoring her.

Connie accepted this dubious permission and tiptoed upstairs. It was a paper-thin excuse to intrude on Vidalia's gallery, but she wanted to satisfy her curiosity about something the woman had mentioned on Connie's first visit a few weeks prior.

There were at least a dozen canvases propped up in a stack against one of the walls. Presumably these were paintings not deemed good enough to hang up. Connie carefully looked through them, finding a variety of landscapes and some strange experiments in form and perspective. She stopped when she found what she was looking for, and pulled the canvas out from between its neighbours to get a better look.

It was a portrait of Pink Diamond, but unlike any she had ever seen before. In theory it followed the usual conventions — a head-and-shoulders portrait, smiling out at the viewer — but something was wrong. The smile itself seemed a paradox of perspective, implying an arrogant sneer. There was an unpleasant lighting effect, casting unnatural shadows about Pink Diamond's face. And then there were the eyes. Even though the painting was propped up at floor level, Connie felt as though the gem was looking down on her. The overall effect was perversely impressive: humanity's glorious benefactor appeared as a cruel tyrant, staring down at Connie with transparent contempt.

No wonder Vidalia hadn't shown it to anybody.

Connie carefully put the painting back where she had found it and crept back out of the studio, making sure not to disturb anything. She was beginning to get an idea of the problems Onion's family were facing. Yellowtail mired in unhappiness, Vidalia channeling her frustrations into art, and Onion caught in the middle with no choice but to express himself through mischief. Clearly they felt let down by the gems. Maybe if the Diamond Authority had handled Yellowtail's relocation better, all of this could have been avoided.

Either the gems didn't understand all aspects of human behaviour as well as they claimed to, or they just needed to explain themselves more clearly so everyone would know why things were the way they were, and there would be no need for such petty resentments to fester. So, the sensible thing would be to hear out PeeDee and Ronaldo, and find out exactly what their issue was with the way things were being run. Then they could work together on a list of questions and concerns, and maybe her dad could pass it on to the gems and get everything sorted out.

The more Connie thought about this plan, the more viable it seemed. If she could persuade Ronaldo to dismantle his machine into the bargain, then nobody would even need to get in trouble!

She found Onion in the kitchen, where he had stuck a knife through his apple and embedded it into the table. "I have to go," she told him. "Have a nice day!" He gave a dismissive wave.

* * *

Connie set off back to the boardwalk, with every intention of seeking out the Fryman boys in their manufactory. However, remembering the way she had left them the day before, she suddenly lost her nerve and veered off into Mr Pita's cafeteria at the last moment.

Mr Pita immediately spotted her from behind his counter and came out to meet her. "Good afternoon, young lady! I have not seen you in here very often! I hope that you are not playing favourites among the settlement's food vendors. As the daughter of the peacekeeper it is important for you to demonstrate impartiality! What would you like for lunch?"

Connie blinked a few times, slightly overwhelmed. "Um... can I have a few minutes to decide?"

"Of course you may! Take a seat and think carefully."

Connie looked around and saw Buck Dewey, Jenny Pita and Sadie seated at one of the tables. Buck waved her over.

"I'm glad you could make it to our little get-together, Connie."

Connie was puzzled. "But... nobody invited me."

Buck made a broad, magnanimous gesture. "Nobody needs an invitation to the unofficial pre-harvest festival. All are welcome."

"I still think you should call it a pre-harvest-festival festival," Sadie pointed out. "Otherwise it sounds like it's meant to be before the harvest."

"Don't get so hung up on details," Jenny suggested. "Join us for some food, Connie!"

Connie warily pulled up a chair. "Isn't this more of a lunch than a festival?" she asked.

"Festivity is in the mind," Buck calmly asserted. "Anything can be a festival if you approach it with the right energy."

"Never mind all that," Jenny interrupted, "what are we having? There was a good haul of fish this morning, so our options are way open."

There was a brief debate as the older kids discussed how many flatbreads to order and with what toppings. Connie felt somewhat marginalised until Sadie made a point of asking for her input. "We can all share a bit of each, so is there anything you'd particularly like? Or dislike?"

(This latter was an unusual question, as Connie had been brought up to believe that disliking foods was a frivolous luxury.)

"Oh, I'm not sure," Connie said. "I already had fish today, but not fresh fish. What kind is it?"

Jenny shrugged. "There's only two kinds of fish: normal fish, and strange fish. These were the normal kind."

"I hate strange fish," Sadie opined.

"They're not so bad," Buck countered. "We're all strange to somebody."

Connie felt she should contribute. "I saw a strange fish this morning. At least, I think it was a fish."

Buck nodded sagely. "A lot of interesting stuff going on in that ocean. Too bad we can't see it."

"I'll go and order," Jenny said. "Wait — my dad's got that look in his eye. I'd better go and give Kiki a hand in the kitchen for a minute. Don't let anyone take my seat, will you?"

Once Jenny was gone, Buck turned his level gaze on Connie. "So, I bet by now you're familiar with the competing philosophies of food science within our settlement. I'd be interested to know where your sympathies lie."

"Well," Connie decided, "I don't think it would be wise for either of us to take sides. Or tactful to discuss it in this setting."

Buck grinned. "A very politic response. Perhaps a future in civic administration awaits you."

Connie wasn't sure whether this was intended as a compliment or an insult.

"I think it's nice to have a choice of eateries," Sadie offered. "I don't worry too much about the reasoning behind them."

"But in saying that," Buck pointed out, "you're buying into Mr Pita's philosophy. 'Man cannot live by bread alone'."

Sadie was dubious. "I don't think that's accurate. All they serve here is bread dishes."

"The point still stands. Luxury through variety. Refusing to take a side could be seen as a tacit rejection of Mr Fryman's pragmatist approach."

"You eat at both places too," Sadie protested weakly.

Buck smiled, not unkindly. "But rather than denying the contradiction, I accept it. You can't pick and choose whether you pick and choose."

Connie felt the need to change the subject. "So where's Lars? Could he not make it?"

Sadie looked uncomfortable. "Lars... doesn't see eye-to-eye with the rest of us sometimes. I'm not sure what he's doing today."

Connie nodded. It made sense, as Lars was more of a lone wolf. "What about tomorrow? You'll be going to the festival together, right?"

"Well sheesh, I'm sure I'll see him there. I'm not his keeper."

"What sort of things happen at the festival?" Connie asked.

"You're in for a treat," Buck announced. "Games and competitions. People seeing who grew the biggest or most unusual vegetable. Performances." He smiled wryly. "The whole thing is so tedious. It's great."

Connie didn't pretend to understand this assessment, but soldiered on. "So... musical performances?"

"Talking about tomorrow?" Jenny asked, returning to the table. "All kinds of stuff goes on at these things. Sometimes even a play."

Buck was poker-faced. "You finished helping Kiki already?"

"She's fine," Jenny blithely assured them. "Isn't there a play this year, Buck?"

"I suppose."

She nudged him repeatedly with her elbow. "Didn't your dad write it, Buck?"

For the first time since Connie had met him, Buck's calm facade faltered and he looked slightly irritated. "What my dad writes or doesn't write reflects on him alone," he protested.

"I'm sure it's really good!" Sadie was trying to sound encouraging, but there was the faintest quiver of suppressed laughter in her voice.

"What's it about?" Connie asked.

Buck made some slow gesticulations of ironic drama. "A dramatised account of humanity's salvation by our benefactor, Pink Diamond." He rolled his eyes and smirked. "You could say my dad's kind of unimaginative. Still," he continued thoughtfully, "a lack of innovation doesn't have to negate artistry. True creativity takes place in the margins of a story. Even Shakespeare was a hack when it came to subject matter."

"That's really nice," said Sadie.

Jenny was more sceptical. "You think he could be as good as Shakespeare?"

Buck leaned back, smiling. "Now you're putting words into my mouth. I'll just be another audience member, judging it on its own merits."

Shortly after this their food arrived, and they spent some time cutting up the flatbreads and sharing them out. The result was an eclectic mix of toppings. Connie started on a piece covered with slices of egg, zucchini and mad-apple.

"I heard there's going to be a subsidy this year," Sadie volunteered in between mouthfuls.

Buck nodded. "I also heard this rumour."

"Ooh, some extra variety this winter then," Jenny smiled.

Connie was shocked by this blasé attitude. "It's not a good thing!" she pointed out. "It means we've failed, if the gems have to help us."

Jenny shrugged blandly. "That's what they're there for, though?"

"It's not like we could have done anything else," Sadie added, shooting Connie a sideways look.

Buck nodded. "Pretty harsh, Connie."

Connie was dumbfounded. How was she in the wrong, here? "But... doesn't it make you worry for... for the future of humanity?"

Buck gestured with a slice of flatbread as he spoke. "Look at it this way. Sure, we didn't grow enough food this year. So that leaves us with a choice. We can not have enough food. Or, we can not have enough food and also feel bad about it. Now, which option leaves us worse off?"

"Plus," Jenny interjected, "thanks to the gems we _will_ have enough food, so who cares."

Connie instinctively disagreed with this assessment, but couldn't see a logical inroad through which to refute it. The longer she spent thinking about it, the more she worried it would look like she'd accepted Buck's argument, and the better her response would have to be in order to dispel this impression. In the end, she decided to reinterpret her own silence as a dignified one, and vowed to pick up the topic when she'd had more time to think about it.

The older kids had started merrily reminiscing about some incident from years past, and Connie was keenly reminded of her status as an outsider. _If you all knew what I knew,_ she thought, _maybe you wouldn't be so cheerful._

"...what was it he called you? The third-worst student he'd ever taught?"

Jenny set her drink down on the table, spluttering with laughter. "'You haven't even distinguished yourself at being bad!'" she quoted.

"That's when you _know_ you've got to them," Buck declared.

Jenny recomposed herself and addressed Connie. "Count yourself lucky it's Mrs Lezner teaching the junior grade now. Who was your teacher before you came here?"

"Well," Connie muttered, "I was home-schooled, so..."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." Jenny calmly sipped her water, oblivious to Connie's discomfort.

Buck gazed into the middle distance. "I guess that everyone at this table knows what it's like to live in a parent's shadow. But one day, we shall be the ones casting shadows."

"No offence, Buck," Sadie remarked, "but I think some of this stuff doesn't come across as wise as you mean it to."

"Wisdom is in the ear of... eh, never mind." Buck returned to his food.

_Wisdom is the daughter of experience,_ Connie thought.

"Thank you for inviting me to your... pre-festival," she said. "I have to get going, though. I'll probably see you all tomorrow."

They exchanged good-byes, and Connie made sure to thank Mr Pita for the food. She emerged onto the boardwalk with a renewed determination to speak to PeeDee and Ronaldo. However wrong-headed their conclusions, at least they were taking an active interest in the future of the settlement. It was more important than ever that she found some common ground with them, and convinced them to get themselves out of the trouble that must surely be heading their way.

But, disconcertingly, when she got to the manufactory there was only Mr Fryman serving. "No, the boys aren't here, I'm afraid. Not sure where they've got to this afternoon. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Thank you, Mr Fryman, but I already ate. If you see them, could you tell them..." She failed to think of a message that wouldn't sound suspicious. "Well, never mind, I'm sure I'll bump into them," she finished lamely.

If Mr Fryman had any inkling of what had been going on beneath his manufactory, he didn't show it. Connie awkwardly retreated along the boardwalk, and without really thinking about it, found herself heading back towards the education centre.

Along the way she passed near enough to the civic hall to see how things had progressed. The stage was adorned with banners and there were various stalls set up in the surrounding area. Close to the hall itself she could see her father and Mr Dewey. They appeared to be deep in conversation, and did not notice her. There was still a scattering of other people finishing various tasks, but no sign of the Fryman boys. She decided it couldn't be helped, as she didn't fancy running round the settlement on what might be a wild goose chase. She'd bump into them sooner or later regardless.

* * *

Considering the events of the morning, Connie opted this time to lock the education centre door behind her. She spent some more time practicing her pianoforte exercises, and, when this once again grew tiresome, decided to let herself into the library and conduct a search for any interesting-looking reading matter.

Since her arrival in settlement B1C7, Connie had found the wealth of literature available to be almost overwhelming, and most surfaces in her bedroom were now covered with unfinished books. It was so difficult to commit to one volume when some valuable item of knowledge might await discovery on these very shelves. After a childhood spent picking over the same few books in her parents' old house, this was something of a culture shock.

There was a frustrating lack of order to the library beyond the broad categorisation into general themes, and the fiction section in particular defied efforts to navigate it. For example, she had yet to locate a copy of the original Gulliver book, but remained uncertain whether no such volume existed, or she had merely failed to examine the correct shelf closely enough.

Maybe there was some reference book with information she could use to persuade Ronaldo when she found him? The trouble was, most early human science had by now been discredited, so it would be hard to rely on existing texts. Still, it couldn't hurt to look. Rummaging through the non-fiction section she dismissed numerous out-of-date almanacs and architectural studies. A weighty tome on one of the bottom shelves caught her eye: some kind of dictionary of arts and sciences.

Lifting the book onto the desk for perusal, Connie wondered what on earth she should be looking up. She had no word for the phenomenon demonstrated by Ronaldo. Furthermore, this volume appeared to only cover the letters M to Z. She supposed she might as well look up potatoes as a starting point.

Predictably, there was no reference to the use of the vegetable in reanimating dead fish. It simply defined the potato as an edible tuber, and directed the reader to look up 'solanum'. Connie did so and was treated to a dry botanical definition — however, this led her to notice the entry on soil, which ran for numerous paragraphs. She scoured it for any pertinent information.

_It is plain,_ she read, _that some sort of terrestrial matter, taken from among the soil, is what gives increase and bulk to plants; for were it only water, the rain falling in all places alike, all would alike be at all times suited to produce all plants._ This seemed a reasonable assertion. But some of the methods described for accelerating the regeneration of fallow land seemed paradoxical. How could you fertilise land with only the leftover remnants of what had been grown on that same land? You would always take out more than you put back in. So there was no choice but to wait for the rains to bring sufficient nutrients with them.

She flipped through the book with the impatient hope of stumbling across something useful. To her dismay, it became apparent that certain pages had been torn out. "Who vandalises a book?" she muttered, incredulous. This, combined with the densely archaic prose and the fact that she didn't really know what she was looking for, led to her decision to put the book aside for now and to bear it in mind as a reference point for any future enquiries. Instead, she returned to the shelves and dug out yet another unofficial literary sequel to leaf through.

* * *

She took the book into Mrs Lezner's classroom where there was more natural light, and it was there that her mother found her. Connie was alerted by a tapping on the window, and went through to the atrium to unlock the door.

"Good afternoon, Connie," Mrs Maheshwaran said as she reached the door.

"Hi, Mom. Busy day?"

"Yes, quite," her mother affirmed. She regarded Connie quizzically. "Have you been here all day?"

"I went out for lunch."

"That's good," Priyanka nodded. "It's nice to have a daughter that doesn't go around getting herself into trouble, like some of these other children. I think before we moved here I'd allowed myself to forget what they can be like."

Connie smiled weakly. "I was just taking a short reading break," she said, unsure whether it was necessary to explain the lack of music.

"It's good to be well-read," Mrs Maheshwaran replied, and that was that. "Come home now," she continued, "there's a surprise for you." Connie relinquished the education centre key and they locked up the building before returning to the house.

The surprise, it turned out, was a medium-sized pumpkin sitting on the dining table. "Ta-dah," her dad said, gesturing to the vegetable only semi-ironically. "It's a gift from one of the neighbours. Wasn't that nice?"

"Very generous," Connie warily agreed. This seemed quite an underwhelming surprise, and she thought it might have been better for her mom not to have announced it so far in advance.

Her dad continued: "I thought we could hollow it out, and you can carve it into a lantern. That way you'll have something to enter into the festival tomorrow. Plus, we can plant the seeds in the allotment for next year."

Connie was less than enthused by this suggestion, but once they got under way it turned out to be quite an enjoyable diversion. They cut open the top of the pumpkin and extracted the pulpy mass into a pan and, after removing the seeds, her parents began adding some more ingredients to make a soup. Meanwhile, Connie pondered a design for the lantern.

First she carefully prodded it with the knife, marking out positions for the facial features to check they would be in proportion. She carved the mouth first, cutting out a thin line and then trying to sculpt it into a realistic shape. The end result resembled a kind of broad pout. For the nose, she decided to keep things simple and cut out a small upward-pointing triangle, a traditional generic feature in the world of pumpkin lanterns.

She stared at it for a while. There was a definite mismatch in style already apparent, but perhaps she could run with it and say she was going for an unsettling effect.

Finally, she came up with a design for the eyes. She carved out a pair of thick rainbow-shaped arches, in the hope that, when lit, the jutting portion of flesh at the bottom of each eye would resemble the pupils. Surely this clever use of negative space would not go unnoticed.

She regarded her creation. There was something indefinably creepy about it, which might not be entirely appropriate for the festival, but at least this could make it stand out. She carefully rotated the pumpkin so it faced the doorway to the kitchen, and started setting out some crockery for dinner. There was by now a pleasing aroma of simmering pottage.

Connie went through to the kitchen where her parents were engaged in a quiet conversation which ceased upon her appearance. "Hey, it's nearly ready," Doug told her. "Could you get out some spoons?"

"I've already done it. I was just going to get some drinks."

She went to the tap and ran three glasses of water. Her parents smiled at her and did not resume their discussion. "There's some bread left over," Priyanka said. "You can put that out too, and bring the bowls through. This is almost ready."

With dinner ready and served up, they convened in the dining room, her parents pausing to examine Connie's pumpkin. "That's an... interesting design," Doug ventured.

"Well, don't overdo the praise or I could get big-headed!" Connie's indignation was feigned. Mostly.

Her dad chuckled. "Hey, it's growing on me. Does it have to watch us eat, though?"

"She has to watch as we eat her brains."

"Connie," Priyanka murmured in mild reproof, but did not follow up with a specific objection.

The soup had a spicy kick to it which enhanced its warming properties. Coupled with thick slices of leftover bread, it made for a surprisingly filling meal. Connie dunked a piece of bread in the liquid to soften it up.

"Is it true that there's going to be a subsidy this year?" she asked.

Her parents glanced at each other. "Where did you hear that?" her dad asked.

It hadn't occurred to Connie that this could be a controversial topic to broach. "Uh... just around."

Doug sighed. "Well, nothing is final yet, but yes, it's looking that way. I guess someone's been talking about it who shouldn't have been, which is a shame."

Given the source of the rumour, it seemed to Connie like the person in question was probably Mr Dewey. She decided it was better to keep this to herself. Instead, she asked: "How come it isn't final?"

"We're still running some numbers to see if there's any way to stretch things far enough to get us through winter."

"Accepting food from the gems isn't something to be taken lightly," Priyanka pointed out. "It reflects badly on the settlement, so we need to be sure it's the only option."

"But all the same," Doug said, "we can't let people go hungry. So it'll probably be official within the next couple of weeks."

Connie considered this. "I don't get why it makes us look bad, though. Everyone's been working hard, haven't they?"

"Nobody's pointing the finger at individual people," her dad assured her. "But it's a problem for the settlement as a location if it can't support its own population. So we need to try and avoid that."

_By doing what, exactly?_ Connie thought, but did not see much point in asking.

"Are you looking forward to the festival?" Priyanka asked while taking another piece of bread.

Connie put her spoon down for a moment. "Well, I'm not quite sure what to expect, but it seems like it'll be more involved than the old celebrations at settlement P5T7."

Doug grinned. "I'm sure there'll be plenty going on to keep you entertained. Your mom and I will be busy for most of the day, so you can have the run of the place and do whatever you like."

Connie gave her mother a quizzical glance.

"I've been invited to sit on the judging panel for the various contests," Priyanka explained. "Of course," she added with a wry smile, "I shall recuse myself when it comes to judging the vegetable lanterns. I have a vested interest."

"It's nice to know you've retained your sense of fair play," her husband remarked. "A lesser person might become megalomaniacal at the prospect of such power."

Connie smiled and exhaled slightly through her nose, in lieu of actual laughter. "What will you be doing?" she asked.

Her dad shrugged. "I'll be around and about, checking to make sure people don't get too boisterous. You never know, I might need to actually do my job for once and keep the peace."

Connie's brow furrowed. "Do you really think there could be trouble?"

"Well... probably not. But it's a big gathering of people — someone's got to keep an eye on things."

Priyanka almost spoke over her husband. "Speaking of which, Connie, do be careful who you... I mean, just be aware that we live in a larger settlement now and not everybody might be as... honest as you're used to, compared to where we used to live." Conflicting emotions raced briefly across her face, and were suppressed in favour of a look of benevolent maternal curiosity. "Have you made some friends at school?" she asked.

It seemed prudent not to cast attention on PeeDee at this point. "Well, I spent some time with Onion recently."

Mrs Maheshwaran's eye twitched slightly. "That's... I'm not sure about that boy," she said. "I'd rather you didn't spend too much time in the company of people who could be a bad influence on you. I'm particularly concerned about some of the children in my class..." She paused for a moment of internal struggle. "I suppose there's no harm in spending time with your own classmates. You're a sensible young lady, and Onion's mother has been very kind to us since we moved in. I just wouldn't want you getting in any kind of... trouble, especially if it was through no fault of your own..." She trailed off, glancing at Doug.

"Connie's not getting in any trouble," he said with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Priyanka nodded. "Of course," she said, and swiftly changed the subject. "Is everybody hungry for dessert?"

They enjoyed an indulgent dessert of honeyed gemfruits, and then retired to the drawing room to while away the rest of the evening with some word games. Connie's mother didn't mention her concerns again, and Connie pretended not to have noticed it was a strange topic to introduce. It appeared her mom was worried Connie could be tarnished with guilt by association when the gems exacted justice, but was stuck not being able to say too much about it because it was still meant to be a secret. Her dad's comment she took as a signal that he could protect her if that ever happened.

She hoped he was right.

_Tomorrow,_ she thought. _I have to speak to Ronaldo tomorrow._


	10. Harvest Festival

It was still dark when Connie woke up. Her first intention was to go back to sleep until there was a reason to get out of bed, but she quickly realised she was in fact wide awake. She lay still for a few minutes wondering what to do. Somewhere outside, a lone bird tweeted in anticipation of daylight.

Deciding to find out what time it was, Connie got out of bed and crept downstairs. Now that she looked, there was a hint of light in the distant sky, but she still had to ignite one of the waxlights for a moment in order to clearly see the drawing room clock. It was coming up to half-past six. She extinguished the light and went back upstairs. _Might as well get ready,_ she thought. There was no sound from her parents' room as she washed and dressed, and rather than tiptoeing around for the next half-hour trying not to disturb them, she opted to go out for a quick walk before breakfast.

She pulled her coat about her as she set off round the block. The settlement was quiet, but not totally devoid of activity as she might have expected. On the next street over, someone had chosen this as the ideal time to sweep the path in front of their front door. He gave Connie a quiet wave of acknowledgement, which she returned without breaking her stride. Soon afterwards, she had a similar exchange with a woman walking the opposite way carrying an empty bucket. Connie felt like she had just been initiated into a secret society of productive insomniacs.

The sky was growing lighter, and she decided to extend her walk a little and find a vantage point for the sunrise. There was no sound but the distant roar of the sea as she headed past the stables and ascended the hill leading up to the windmill, taking care not to disturb the goats that sheltered on the ground. The grass here was damp, but halfway up she found a small rock to sit on which commanded a decent view of the settlement and environs. The sun was by now becoming visible over the hills inland, casting long shadows in her direction. To her right, the dark mass of the ocean had gained definition, and she watched its endless assault on the beach.

There was somebody else up and working at this hour: a figure was moving along the beach at a steady run. Connie squinted, trying to identify them. It had to be one of the Pita sisters — they were weaving about the beach, periodically swooping down to pick something up and throw it in a basket. Fish for the festival.

Connie didn't envy Jenny (or Kiki) the task. It was closer than she would ever want to get to that violent sea. Still, Kiki (or Jenny) demonstrated a practiced expertise, unerringly anticipating the larger waves and steering clear of any danger. It seemed unjust to Connie that the twins had to dedicate so much extracurricular time to their father's manufactory. Sure, once they graduated they could be exempt from much of the other communal work, but right now they must be run ragged. The Diamond Authority had no jurisdiction over the family unit, but it still ran counter to the principle that childhood should be dedicated to education and leisure. PeeDee and Ronaldo were in theory similarly disadvantaged, but at least those two weren't dodging killer waves on a regular basis.

Come to think of it, how _did_ Ronaldo acquire that fish? The boy was scarcely fleet of foot.

Connie shook her head. There was only so much she could expend mental energy on at this time in the morning. She got up from the rock, hopped from foot to foot in order to remedy a numb leg, and set off back down the hill. It looked as if they were going to have good weather for the time of year.

* * *

Back at home, her dad was awake and in the kitchen, holding a slice of bread. "Connie!" he said, surprised. "I was going to let you sleep."

She gave a sheepish grin. "Early bird catches the worm," she offered.

"A fine sentiment! I'm afraid we're all out of worms, but help yourself to a piece of bread."

The remnant of the loaf was showing its age, and after sawing off a slice she applied a liberal helping of fruit preserve to soften it up a bit.

Mr Maheshwaran bit into his own slice and wrenched the remainder away with some effort. Connie watched with quiet amusement as he chewed at length.

"Maybe I'll have some of that too," he said, his voice muffled as he reached for the jar.

Connie pretended to take offence. "Hey! What are you always telling me about manners?"

She grinned as her dad swallowed the bread. "Fine," he said. "I won't eat with my mouth full, if you don't talk with your mouth open."

"It's a deal."

They both broke into sniggers. While her dad helped himself to the preserve, Connie poured two glasses of water as a backup.

"Right," Doug said upon finishing his breakfast. "I've got to get to the civic hall. Lots to do today. The festival won't be starting for a couple of hours, so you may as well relax here for a while."

Connie risked addressing the contradiction: "What are you going to be busy with if the festival hasn't started?"

"Oh," he replied breezily, "just going over some things with Mr Dewey and making sure everything's running to plan. Double-checking who's doing what throughout the day."

Even if Connie hadn't already know something was going on, her dad's evasive demeanor would most likely have made her suspicious. As it was, she pretended to take his answer at face value.

"See you later," she said.

Her own breakfast finished, Connie sat for a while in the drawing room. Soon, her mother came downstairs and discovered her there.

"Connie, you're awake," she said in a tone somewhere between surprise and outright accusation. "When did you get up?"

"About an hour ago, I think. For some reason I just woke up."

Her mom considered this. "Well, I wish you could be more like this on school days." Connie couldn't help suspecting that her mother felt chagrined to be the last one in the house to get up.

After establishing that Connie had already eaten, Priyanka adjourned to the kitchen to prepare her own breakfast. Meanwhile, Connie went to her room and dug out _Micromégas_ to see if she could make some more sense of it this morning. With a guilty start, she realised she had amassed rather a lot of library books which were now sitting in piles by her bed, and she resolved to take some back on the next school day.

Mrs Maheshwaran returned presently to the drawing room. "I'm going to go and meet with the rest of the judging panel before the festival starts. Would you like me to take your lantern and register it on your behalf?"

Connie nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Her mother nodded formally. "Very well. Come along any time after ten. Help yourself from the kitchen if you're still hungry, but bear in mind there'll be plenty to eat during the day."

"Thanks," Connie repeated vaguely as Priyanka departed.

With the house empty, she returned to her book. Now that she was free of distractions, it was such a short read that she was already near the end. The giant creatures in the book had such advanced faculties that they had at first only perceived humanity as insignificant microorganisms. Upon speaking to the humans, they were initially moved by man's grasp of science and philosophy, but subsequently disappointed by tales of war and prejudice, and the superficiality of his knowledge. Finally, faced with a human declaring that the earth and heavens were created for the benefit of mankind, the giants could not contain their laughter. With this, the story came to an abrupt end.

Connie flipped back through the book, perplexed. Who had written this? Was it some sort of metaphor for... for the gems? It seemed somehow inappropriate. Did the teachers know it was in the library? She decided to make sure and return this one to the shelves discreetly.

* * *

Connie hadn't known quite what to expect from the harvest festival, but on first impressions she was a little underwhelmed. She'd had a vague, unexamined idea that it would be somehow more sophisticated than the meagre celebrations back at settlement P5T7, more spectacular. But in many ways it was just a bigger version of the same thing. Still, there were some interesting things on display on the tables and in the sheltered stalls that had been assembled. In addition to the vegetables awaiting judgement, there was an array of cakes which carried a promise of sweet treats to be available later in the day, once a winner had been decided upon. There were some games of chance, and a grinning man occupying a wooden stall invited her to try her luck throwing hoops over a series of sticks. For the time being, she politely declined in favour of mingling amongst the people that had already turned up.

A young woman was playing a pastoral melody on some sort of flute, and a number of other musical instruments were propped up near the stage, including Mr DeMayo's guitar. There was a general air of conviviality as people talked amongst themselves. Connie looked around for anyone she knew. She could see her mom accompanying Mr Dewey and a couple of other adults on a slow tour of the stalls, currently engaged in a robust discussion over some squashes. Sadie was standing on the periphery of the event, looking around as if searching for something. From the looks of it, none of the other older kids had turned up yet. Conversely, some of Connie's younger classmates were taking the opportunity to run wild.

Vidalia was sitting behind an easel by one of the tables. Catching Connie's eye, she waved manically.

"Good morning," she said as Connie approached. "I'm making commemorative charcoal sketches of the day. Would you like one? I can do a portrait of you enjoying the festival."

"Well, maybe in a bit," Connie said, "after I've had a look round at everything."

"That's fine, but I might get busy, so be warned!"

Connie looked at the table. "You've certainly got plenty of paper," she observed. The yellowing sheets were weighted down with stones.

"It's old wallpaper," Vidalia explained, lifting a piece from her easel to show the faded pattern on the front. "Not really useful for anything else."

"Who are you drawing at the moment?"

Vidalia beckoned Connie to take a look. "It's just a general sketch of the whole event."

The square was depicted from an imaginary vantage point, with a crowd of indistinct people dotted around the makeshift canvas. Except they weren't all indistinct: some of the squiggles took on the distinct properties of people Connie knew. "Is that the judging panel?" she asked, pointing to a group of figures.

Vidalia grinned. "Good eye," she said, which struck Connie as an admirably humble response. It was more a reflection of Vidalia's artistry than Connie's observance.

A thought occurred to her: "I suppose you've been paying attention to what's going on. Have you seen... well, anyone my age?"

Vidalia pondered this. "Well, I think some of the kids from your grade have been running around. I know Onion's here somewhere, but I haven't seen him in a while. They might be playing hide-and-seek."

Connie quickly re-scanned the squiggly blobs on Vidalia's drawing. None of them looked like Ronaldo or PeeDee. She gave Vidalia a forced smile and excused herself to continue looking around.

A slightly tatty banner was strung across the top of the stage. In colourful blocky writing, it said 'ENJOY NATURE'S BOUNTY!!' This instruction, or suggestion, was adorned with precisely two exclamation marks. Either side of the stage there were some rather nice floral arrangements. On the stage itself, various props were strewn about, behind which a man (who looked familiar but whose name Connie couldn't place) was marching back and forth muttering inaudibly to himself.

She wandered to another stall which housed some sort of game, and was surprised to be greeted by the same smiling man as before. "Try your luck!" he enthused. "Knock the turnips off their spikes! There's a small prize for the best score."

"All right, I can give it a try. How am I supposed to do it?"

He placed a spheroid object on the counter between them. "You throw this other, smaller turnip!"

Connie took up the vegetable and aimed it carefully. Bringing her arm forward, she loosed her missile at the most prominent target. It glanced off the side of the turnip, which barely even moved in reaction.

"Oh, hard luck," the stall-holder told her. "But don't feel bad, it's harder than it looks! You can always have another go later."

Connie glared at the target. If it was impaled on its stick from underneath, how were you supposed to dislodge it with a lateral impact?

"Ooh, bad choice," a voice behind her said calmly. It was Buck Dewey. "This game's a real rip-off. Mr Smiley should be ashamed of it."

"I'm standing right here, you do know that?" Mr Smiley hissed through a forced rictus.

Buck gave a mild chuckle. "You're better off trying the hoop toss," he advised Connie. "Leave this one until later in the day and the targets might soften up a bit." He tilted his head back, looking down at Connie. "Anyway, I can't chat right now. Maybe you'll see me later." Without waiting for a reply, he strode purposefully away.

"If I make the games too easy," Mr Smiley protested, "they'll be over right away."

"Don't listen to him," Connie said. "I think it's admirable that you're dedicating so much time and effort to entertaining people."

"Well, thanks!" His smile broadened and he gave a conspiratorial wink. "Say, if you come back around three-ish, you might find the game _significantly_ easier. Just a hint!"

"I'll certainly bear it in mind," Connie said.

"See that you do!" he beamed. "You could be the proud eater of a vegetable stew."

Connie wandered away from the stall and through the crowd of people, who had increased in number since her arrival. She noted that some of them were carrying drinks and snacks, and pushed through in the opposite direction to find out where they had got them. Sure enough, she found a table presided over by Lars's parents, who were handing out baked goods filled with various ingredients. An adjacent table was currently empty, and Connie wondered whether another food vendor would be setting up for lunch.

"Psst... Connie!" a voice hailed her in a baritone stage whisper. She looked for its source, and saw Ronaldo hiding behind a stall which was displaying some wreaths. Even while trying to be discreet he came across as self-important. "It's me, Ronaldo," he added unnecessarily, and flinched back behind the stall when she approached him.

"I've been looking for you," she said. "Where have you been?"

Ronaldo backed away nervously. "Have you calmed down?" he asked. "We need to talk to you. Somewhere private."

Connie stood her ground. "We can go somewhere quieter in the square, but I'm staying where people can see us."

He let out an awkward burst of staccato laughter. "Gosh, Connie, if you don't mind my saying so, that's a bit... well, whatever you say, then. But it's only us!" He looked a little hurt.

"How about over there?" Connie pointed to a street which led to the sea front and hence didn't have too many people coming and going.

Ronaldo nodded. "I'll find PeeDee and we'll meet you in a couple of minutes."

Connie made her way to the rendezvous and tried not to look conspicuous. She leaned against a building a few feet down the side street, in sight of the festival but not too obvious. Before long, Ronaldo emerged from the crowd with PeeDee, and the duo approached her.

"Connie," PeeDee greeted her. "Thanks for seeing us."

Connie was momentarily struck with the absurd formality of this meeting, but dismissed the thought. "I was looking for you guys all day yesterday. I think you could be in real trouble. Ronaldo, you have to dismantle that machine." The boys stared at her. "I know you worked hard on it, but it just can't help us. I'm not saying you shouldn't work on ideas to help the settlement, I think that's a good thing. But this one will look bad, when the gems find out."

PeeDee looked at her, his expression neutral. "Why didn't you tell on us?" he asked.

Connie blinked. "I... what?"

"We know who your dad is," PeeDee explained. "You clearly think Ronaldo's invention is dangerous. And yet, two days later, we've had no knock on the door, no gems sniffing around. It's been all quiet in the settlement. So, either you told on us and it wasn't a big deal, or you kept the whole thing to yourself. And you still seem to think it's a big deal, so the question remains: why didn't you tell on us?"

Connie tried to corral her thoughts. "I... firstly, look, I might have overreacted a little bit the other day, and I thought about what you said, and I don't necessarily think it's dangerous. I mean, I get it, you only built the thing recently so it probably couldn't do that much harm anyway. But I don't think it matters." She glanced furtively into the square. "I know the gems are looking for something in the settlement, and I know they're putting pressure on my dad to get results for them. So it doesn't matter what I think — if the gems think that thing is dangerous, then every day you keep it in your cellar you're putting yourselves at risk of... of eviction, or... I don't know what."

Ronaldo smiled encouragingly. "I'm glad you were able to see the merit of my arguments, Connie! I provisionally retract some of the things I said. _Provisionally_," he emphasised.

"I'm not saying you _are_ right, I'm just trying to keep an open mind."

PeeDee seemed uncharacteristically pleased with Connie's responses. "It sounds like you really went out on a limb for us, so... thanks. A lot of people would have just dropped us in it, especially if it was to help their own family."

"But nobody needs to get in trouble," Connie insisted. "Obviously the gems have some way of detecting forbidden technology. So if you destroy the machine, they'll soon realise there's nothing left here to find. Things can go back to normal, and we can find other ways to improve productivity. And I was thinking we could... discuss any problems you might have with the way things are being run, just casually, and see if anything can be done there too."

The brothers exchanged glances. "What kind of problems?" Ronaldo asked.

Connie hesitated, but persisted in giving voice to the uncomfortable concept. "You both made it pretty clear the last time we spoke, that you have some problems with the way the gems are running things. I admit I was kind of shocked, because I've never heard anyone speak like that before... I don't know whether it's because it didn't go on at my old home, or people were just keeping it to themselves because my parents work in civic administration."

Ronaldo was sceptical. "Do you really want to hear out our views, or deflect them with more parroted gem talking points?"

"Ronaldo!" PeeDee jabbed at him with his elbow. "She's trying. Let her talk."

Connie was mildly put off by this interjection, but regained her thread. "I've been thinking about things and I can tell it's not just you guys, there are other people who aren't happy, and it's down to the way the Diamond Authority is managing things. Now, I don't know if it's because they don't understand mortal life forms as well as they think they do, or because they just aren't explaining things to us clearly enough... which would still mean the same thing, I suppose. I know there's a lot of rules I've taken for granted ever since I was born, but never heard any proper reasons for them."

"Is that why you think they might be wrong about Ronaldo's device?"

Connie made a noncommittal head gesture. "I agree that if they know why the soil is still losing quality, they should be more open about it and tell us so we can work on fixing it. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for everything Pink Diamond has done for humanity. We're safe from being hurt or going hungry. I feel lucky to be living now and not in some polluted city hundreds of years ago. But that doesn't mean there can't still be room for things to improve."

"Well said indeed," Ronaldo boomed theatrically. Then, he addressed PeeDee with a conspicuous over-emphasis on his words. "_Connie's our definite equal._ Wouldn't you agree, PeeDee?"

"Yeah... take it down a bit there, Ronaldo." PeeDee looked furtively around. "But I think you're right." He returned his attention to Connie. "Connie, we dismantled the machine right after you left the other day."

"Oh!" Connie was momentarily stunned.

"And we have since eaten the evidence," Ronaldo added.

"Well... that's great! One of my concerns was how it was a waste of food, so I'm glad I was wrong about that too." She exhaled heavily, and found herself laughing with dissipated tension. "Oh, gosh, that's a real weight off my mind. Thank you so much." Pulling herself together, she continued: "So we can just enjoy the day today, and we'll meet up soon to come up with some ideas, and I can find out from my parents how we can pass them on, maybe we could meet with my dad's Zircon..."

"Connie," PeeDee interrupted.

"Yes, I know it's unorthodox, but there has to be a way. I just know it."

"Connie," PeeDee repeated, deadly serious. "I hate to break this to you, and I don't want you to be offended, but... you don't know anything."

Connie's smile froze on her face. "You don't think they'll listen..?"

PeeDee went to rest a hand on Connie's shoulder, but due to the height differential he immediately thought better of it and patted her on the arm. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret: this was a test."

Ronaldo smiled smugly. "Oh, poor naive Connie."

"The gems don't care about Ronaldo's stupid invention."

"Precisely," Ronaldo nodded. "Wait, what?"

Connie's anxiety was returning with a vengeance. "What are you talking about?" she asked, with not a little irritation at their tone.

"There's something else the gems are looking for," Ronaldo explained, "which is even more valuable to them than my forbidden machine that absolutely would have got us in huge trouble if we hadn't destroyed it."

"We had to know if we could trust you," said PeeDee.

"You can't trust anyone," Ronaldo corrected him. "But you can trust somebody just enough. I think it should be all right."

"Me too," PeeDee agreed, before addressing Connie again. "I need you to come with us."

He gave one last glance around them before concluding.

"We're going to take you to meet the Oracle."


	11. The Locked Room

The trio walked through the quiet road behind the boardwalk manufactories and approached the bakery. "I still think we should have brought a blindfold," Ronaldo complained.

Connie shot him a brief glare. "Don't push your luck."

"It's obvious where we're going anyway," PeeDee muttered, and for a moment he was the same bored kid she knew from the classroom.

After they passed the bakery, Connie found herself ascending the hill at the end of the peninsula for the second time that day. They strode purposefully up the grassy incline until Ronaldo became overexerted and had to stop to catch his breath. Once he had finished hyperventilating and stood up straight again, they continued at a more leisurely pace.

Connie regarded the turbulent ocean below them. Ahead, the windmill loomed large, its four broad sails locked in place and quietly creaking against the breeze. Their patchwork canvas rippled against the wooden framework as the wind changed direction. Stone steps traversed a quarter of the building's circumference to the entrance, which was situated a couple of feet above eye level. Before long, they were ascending these steps to the unlocked door.

In the room beyond the doorway, sacks of grain and flour lined up on racks. Spiral stairs spanning the whole building rose from a point more or less opposite the entrance, and disappeared clockwise beyond the ceiling to the heights above. A hole in the middle of the ceiling accommodated the wooden drive shaft, which connected to a machine that looked like it was intended for processing maize. A loop of metal chain was suspended from an open trapdoor leading to the upper floors, and several dusty wooden chutes also descended through the ceiling from the next storey.

There was no sound of industry. Today, the building was deserted.

PeeDee assisted Ronaldo in moving a heap of empty sacks which covered a seam in the floorboards over by the stairway, and it was only then that Connie realised how little sense it made to have the entrance to the building above ground level, unless...

"Watch your step," said PeeDee, and dropped down the now-open trapdoor. Ronaldo tugged at a nearby waxlight and it detached from the wall. He stooped to hand this down to PeeDee, and after a moment a light emerged from the darkness beneath.

Connie peered into the hatch. Closer to the opening than she expected, stone steps went down along the curve of the building. Her conception of the space shifted as she understood that this was a continuation of the same staircase. The construction of the grist mill must have concealed a layer of the original architecture. She sat on the edge of the opening and carefully lowered herself down, before ducking her head to descend a couple of steps in order to make room for Ronaldo. The narrow passageway they were now traversing was enclosed by featureless stone walls.

The three of them slowly walked down the rest of the stairs. Connie had no end of questions about what this was all leading to, but it hardly seemed worth voicing them when the answer was literally just around the corner.

The floor levelled out and Connie's right hand brushed a wooden door on the outer wall. She guessed, correctly, that this was blocked on the other side by the external steps. On her left was another door, which PeeDee illuminated with his portable light. With a pointless air of secrecy, Ronaldo retrieved a key from a string which was tied round his neck and concealed under his shirt. Turning it in the lock of the door, he opened the way to a pitch-dark room.

"Behold," he solemnly intoned, "the Oracle."

Connie's eyes adjusted as PeeDee carried the light into the room, locating another waxlight on the opposite wall which he ignited in turn.

There were some wooden boxes and barrels stacked by the walls, and a heap of straw opposite. A few rusty tools hung from hooks above an abandoned workbench. Other than this the room was largely barren, except for some small items of furniture resembling a failed lesson in carpentry. On one of these, a three-legged stool, sat a small figure, facing away from Connie. The stranger's back was mostly concealed by a mane of waist-length off-white hair, which stirred as she turned her head toward them.

"Who's there?" she asked, and Connie recognised the voice: an Amethyst.

Nothing made sense. Why would a gem be living in the windmill? She looked different, smaller than her kin.

"It's just us," PeeDee said quietly. "We've brought a new friend to meet you."

The Amethyst whirled round in her seat, and Connie took in her bizarre appearance. She was clad in flowing white and grey robes which were entirely unlike anything Connie had seen any gem wearing, and closer resembled something from antiquity. The gemstone set in her chest was marred by a hairline crack which made itself apparent as it glinted in the dim light. Her unruly hair covered one eye, but the other was striking in the fact that it was pure white, with no visible pupil. Connie realised, as the gem turned her head curiously back and forth, that she was unable to see the humans.

A lilac arm reached toward Connie. "Please, give me your hand," the gem implored, flicking her hair back.

Connie silently complied, and the Amethyst swiftly located Connie's shoulder with her other hand. Pulling Connie in, she shifted her hands to Connie's face, and directed it so that they were staring right at each other. Connie gazed into the blank sclerae, transfixed.

Finally the gem spoke: "Would you like to know the exact time and manner of your own death?"

Connie was speechless. Her mouth flapped momentarily, squashed into an undignified shape by the Amethyst's iron grip. "N... no," she managed, "I couldn't... I don't want to know..."

Suddenly the gem released Connie, and threw her head back with a raucous cackle. "Oh, man! I swear it never gets old!" Connie quickly stepped back out of reach as the strange Amethyst continued laughing. "Hah! Yeah, I was only kidding. I'm not really an oracle. That's just a nickname that kind of stuck." She kicked her legs impatiently. "It's so dumb! Just call me Amethyst."

Connie started to make a gesture of greeting, but caught herself. "I'm honoured to meet you," she said. "My name is..."

"Yeah, no offence, girlie," Amethyst interrupted, "but I'm not really doing names any more. I don't like to get attached. It's nothing personal." She waved vaguely at the empty space in the room. "I guess these guys have brought you to ask me something, so fire away."

Connie silently exhaled. "I'm bewildered," she admitted. "I don't understand what this is."

"So ask her," PeeDee prompted. "You should hear it from her, not us."

Connie looked back to Amethyst, who sat in silence with an expectant expression. "Well..." she began. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"The first one's easy," the gem replied simply. "I'm Amethyst. Obviously. I mean, d'you want my facet and cut, or what?"

Connie wasn't sure what this meant. "N-no, thank you," she stammered.

"As for what I'm doing here," Amethyst continued, "I'm hiding. Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I had any choice in the matter." She shrugged. "Wherever here even is."

"Who are you hiding from?"

"Who do you think?" Amethyst huffed.

Connie was confounded by the gem's attitude. "I'm sorry, but this is all new to me. I've never seen a gem like you before. Are you... uh, are you a child?"

Amethyst gave a burst of laughter. "Oh boy! You just go straight for the jugular, don't you?" She appealed to the room. "Help me out here, guys, is there anything about her appearance I can make fun of? Kind of at a disadvantage here."

"Well, I'm no expert on fashion, but..." Ronaldo began, but shut up when he saw PeeDee's expression.

"Please," PeeDee said, "this is serious."

"Duh, I know," Amethyst grinned, "it just gets boring sometimes, you know?" She tipped backwards out of her seat and did a backward roll into the straw pile. "I'm only kidding around," she told Connie. "You can't say anything to me I haven't heard a hundred times before. Gems don't have children, we just come out of the ground. Didn't you even know that?"

"Oh," said Connie, before pointlessly adding: "No, I didn't."

"And in answer to your question: I'm hiding from the Diamond Authority, because I'm defective." Amethyst lay on her back and dropped fistfuls of straw onto herself, appearing to find the activity inherently entertaining.

Connie considered this carefully. "So... you're in trouble with the Authority because you can't see?"

"Oh, that's nothing to do with it," Amethyst said airily, "they could fix that. No, it's because I'm so short." 

"Well..." Connie struggled to come up with a cogent response. "That hardly seems fair."

Amethyst sat up again. "Maybe not to you! You must have seen other Amethysts, you know what we're supposed to look like. Gems aren't like humans, we're meant to all be the same. I came out wrong, so I'm defective. Not a proper Amethyst." She held her hands up, matter-of-factly. "It's not complicated."

Connie silently grappled with these statements. "But it doesn't sound as if it was your fault. What happens to you if you're defective?"

The gem shrugged. "Nothing good. I would have been harvested, most probably. Anyway, I wasn't about to stay and find out."

Could the gems really treat their own kind so unfairly, while being so protective of another species? It didn't add up. Connie didn't even want to know what 'harvested' meant in this context. "So have you been hiding here ever since?" she asked.

"Oh, no." Amethyst felt her way back to the stool and climbed back onto it as she spoke. "It's a way longer story than that, and to be honest I'm kinda sick of telling it, but I guess once more can't hurt. So, blah blah. I emerged from my hole and the place was deserted, I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. So I went looking around until I run into some snotty Agate who starts complaining about wasted resources, and how I've got to come with her to be processed. I didn't like the sound of that too much, so I kind of started spinning out and bowled her over, then I ran away."

Connie cleared her throat politely to indicate she had a question. "So this was... right after you emerged?"

Amethyst looked like she might be rolling her eyes, but it was hard to tell. "Yeah, you're not missing any backstory. This is when I came out of the kindergarten — that's where gems grow."

"Right. I just wanted to make sure I understood. I've never heard about it before so it's all a bit strange."

"Uh, I think you'll find it's perfectly normal and it's you guys who are strange. Growing out of the ground is natural. Haven't you ever seen a tree? Or... I dunno, a root vegetable?"

"She makes a valid point," Ronaldo said approvingly.

"Anyway. Once I'd actually seen other Amethysts I was able to figure out how to pretend to be normal and fit in with them, but it took a lot of effort, and after a while I'd usually get found out and have to run off again. So sometimes I'd go and hide out where humans lived instead. That had its own dangers, but it was safer overall, and they were kind of fun to spend time with. So I kept switching between living with humans and trying to fit in with other gems. That lasted for a few hundred years."

Although well aware of the longevity of gems, Connie was still thrown by the casual reference to such a length of time. "How long ago _was_ this?" she asked. "How old are you?"

"Five thousand years, give or take. I've kind of lost track of time lately." Oblivious to Connie's inability to rationalise such time scales, Amethyst continued her story, pointing to the flaw on her gem. "So, ugh! Eventually I pushed my luck a bit too far, got found out, got in a fight, and ended up with this. Made it so I couldn't shapeshift any more, so my sneaking days were over."

"Shapeshift?" Connie echoed. "Do you mean... changing your own shape?"

"Well, duh. How else did you think I was fitting in with the other Amethysts? Standing on my tippy-toes?" She sighed. "I'd make fun of you some more but there's no point. I know they don't teach you guys any more about gems than they need you to know. Well, lucky for you that I'm here." She puctuated this comment with an ironically flamboyant gesture. "See, after the accident some humans took me in. They kept me hidden from the Diamond Authority, and in return I'd tell them stuff about the gems, or just about anything I knew in general. Not that I even know that much — you think they tell Amethysts anything important? But I've been alive much longer than any human, and I guess that counts for something."

Connie considered this. "So you've been living among humans for thousands of years? You must have seen a lot of changes... uh, sorry."

Amethyst laughed. "Well, I could still see at first! But the crack slowly kept getting bigger... until it eventually stopped, thank goodness. But not before my eyes stopped working." She was silent for a moment. "I didn't see as many changes as you'd think. It's hard for humans to change anything, because they just don't live long enough." She smiled wistfully. "But they never judged me like the gems did, and they knew how to have a good time. They'd give me food too, which was fun. Things were pretty decent until the gems took over. Ever since then, it's been totally no fun whatsoever. Always moving from place to place, can't go outside, people hardly ever come to visit... it's so _boring_."

Connie wondered how long Amethyst had been living in this particular room, and began to feel claustrophobic. "It looks as if they know you're here somehow," she told the gem. "They've been looking."

"Yeah, I already know about that. Thanks for not sugar-coating it, though." Amethyst slouched in her seat. "Things could be looking bad for ol' Amethyst." She faced an area a few inches to Connie's left, and Connie leaned over to obtain the illusion of eye contact. "Why don't you ask them what the knife's for?" the gem slyly asked.

Connie looked around. Sure enough, hanging up amongst the tools on the wall was a large knife, looking distinctly less rusty and more sharp than the items either side of it. Alarmed, she looked back at the Fryman boys, who were observing the conversation from either side of the closed door.

"What _is_ the knife for?" she asked, carefully.

"Security," Ronaldo said darkly. "We have to keep her out of the Authority's hands, no matter what."

Connie froze in place. "Are you saying... if I..."

PeeDee, seeing her expression, jumped in. "Whoa! Not like that. Of course not like that. The knife isn't for you, it's for Amethyst."

Amethyst judged the silence for a moment, before breaking into giggles. "Is she freaking out right now? I knew you numbskulls would do a terrible job explaining it."

PeeDee winced. "It's for emergencies. If her form is damaged, she goes back into her gem. I know it sounds bad, but it's the only way to move her to another hiding place without being seen." He glared at Amethyst. "I shouldn't be the one explaining this stuff, you know."

"Yeah," Amethyst retorted, "but I have to make my own entertainment in here. If you didn't know," she told Connie with a tolerant smile, "the gem is the real me, and my body is a physical projection which can be temporarily destroyed. Or shapeshifted, except we've been over that."

"So..." Connie tried to understand. "You can be... hurt, but it's only temporary?"

Amethyst indicated the fracture again. "Unless it's on the gem. Then it's bad news."

Ronaldo chimed in. "It's how she got into the settlement in the first place. And it's how we wanted to smuggle her out, but we're pretty sure they're searching people's luggage now."

Connie was on the cusp of protesting that no such search had taken place upon their move to the settlement, until she remembered how Amethyst's doppelganger had helpfully spirited their bags away while the family was briefed by Moss Agate.

"We're getting off track," PeeDee complained. "You wanted answers to the big questions, right?"

Amethyst gripped the seat of her stool and rocked it from side to side. "Yeah, ask me another! I know you want to."

Connie looked over the damaged gem, and chose her question carefully. "Why is so much of the planet uninhabitable?"

Amethyst again failed to stare in quite the right direction, but the effect was implicit. "I don't know," she said. "I can only tell you what I've seen and heard. When I emerged from my kindergarten, there was nothing growing there. I've seen other kindergartens and it's the same — hundreds, thousands of gems emerged, but no plants or wildlife. For as long as I've known, humans live where there's plants, and gems live in the deserts. Everyone just kept to themselves. Humans were always on about problems with soil and farming, so that's nothing new. It's true there was always a lot of building going on, making gem facilities in new areas. So maybe that means the deserts were getting bigger? But I didn't spend enough time there myself to know for sure.

"What I can say is that when I was spending time with other gems, some of them mentioned that with the way things were going, one day the planet would be unable to support organic life forms. But that our Diamond — that's Pink Diamond — was working to protect them."

Connie let out the anxious breath she had been holding. "I knew she was on our side," she grinned, to herself as much as to PeeDee and Ronaldo. "It wouldn't have made any _sense_ otherwise."

"Yeah," Amethyst muttered bitterly, "seems like she cares a lot more about humans than about gems like me."

Connie's relief faded as she became conscious of all the other information needing to be reconciled, and she regretted her tone. "It's just... it's a lot to take in," she mumbled.

"I never got all the details, because it seemed like no-one liked talking about it," Amethyst said quietly. "It sounded like there'd been a major disagreement among the Diamonds, and that they only found a compromise at the last moment. It's weird because I've never known the Authority to not be in total accord on everything, but from the sounds of it, this one really could have gone either way. Some of the gems in the hierarchy really weren't happy about changing things, but thanks to Pink Diamond they had no choice."

"Changing what, though?" Connie asked. "What exactly do gems do?"

"Well, what do humans do?" Amethyst shrugged. "Gems just... make more gems, and build gem stuff. We're not exactly _that_ different."

"It... doesn't really seem that way from here," Connie said, weakly. She wished there was somewhere she could sit down. "Have you met Pink Diamond?"

Amethyst snorted with laughter. "You're kidding, right? The higher-ups don't have time to waste on giving orders to the lowest Quartzes. They've got people to do that for the people who do that for them."

Connie felt a little anxious. Maybe, she reasoned, this meant that Pink Diamond didn't know what had happened to Amethyst. But even if this were true, it would do little to mitigate the issue.

Ronaldo piped up. "I commend you on your astute questioning, Connie. You've covered a lot of ground. But why don't you ask the Oracle where she's really from?"

Amethyst turned her head at the sound of Ronaldo's voice, and gave what would have been a withering stare in his direction. "I'm from Earth, thank you very much." She leaned back and lolled her head lazily from side to side. "I think what our friend is _trying_ to get at is the fact that gems originally came here from a different planet."

"Like Micromégas," Connie said without thinking. "Sorry," she added after seeing Amethyst's blank look. "It's just something I was... never mind. It wasn't important."

"There's gems on lots of worlds," Amethyst continued. "I'm an Earth gem through-and-through, but Pink Diamond and a lot of the higher-ranking gems aren't from around here."

Connie reflected on the synchronicity of her having found that book. Like the fictional giant, Pink Diamond had descended from beyond the stars to discover humanity. Like Micromégas, she had found their behaviour disappointing. Was that why it was in the library? Had it been intended to point readers toward this understanding? Perhaps the book had cushioned Connie against the shock of this information, but if she was honest with herself, it was simply that this was too big a revelation to integrate into her worldview without some digestion.

It felt like forbidden knowledge. Never in any of Connie's lessons had she been told that Pink Diamond wasn't from Earth — and yet, never had it been explicitly stated that she was. It was an assumption so basic, so obvious, that it wasn't even necessary to obfuscate.

She returned her thoughts to something more manageable. "Why, then," she asked, "would the Diamond Authority go to such lengths to keep humans from harm, and at the same time allow you to be... persecuted, just for the way you are?"

"For starters," Amethyst pointed out, "they were pretty hands-off for most of human history, so if they were trying to protect you they had a funny way of going about it. But really? You'd have to ask them. Look," she sighed, "you gotta understand how gem society works. Every gem is made for a specific purpose, and that's... well, that's just what they have to do. If you don't fit the specification, they've got no use for you. It's not like your society, where you can just do whatever you choose."

Connie mulled this over. "Can we, though? It seems like the settlements operate in a similar fashion, where everyone helps out in the manner best suited to their abilities."

Amethyst smiled mirthlessly. "Maybe that's what you get when you let the Diamond Authority run things for you." She turned her head to one side, frowning. "I don't think they quite _get_ it. They learned so much about humanity, but they still couldn't stop thinking about it like gems. Seems to me like they ended up erasing a lot of what was interesting about you guys."

"Interesting?" Connie pursed her lips. "Things like war, disease, famine, you think are interesting?"

"You live what, less than a hundred years? If I were you, I shouldn't be too quick to dismiss your own nature for just a little more time on Earth." Amethyst stretched and yawned elaborately. "But what would I know about it? I'm only an Amethyst." She blew a strand of hair away from her mouth. "I've only been hanging around humans since before y'all figured out how to _write_."

"I... um..." Connie trailed off. She couldn't tell whether Amethyst was offended, or just making fun again. Either way, her assertion of authority through longevity seemed to have drawn a line under the discussion.

Amethyst tilted her head to one side, smirking. "Did I break your human brain?" Her smile faded and she looked somewhat morose. "Maybe you guys should take her away for now, I dunno."

PeeDee looked doubtful. "Perhaps we shouldn't be here for too long... what do you say, Connie? We can talk things over and you can come back when you've had time to think about stuff."

Connie suddenly realised the world outside this room still existed. There could be questions if she missed the entire festival. "I suppose so," she said, before remembering something. "Wait, one more thing. You said they could fix your eyes if they wanted?"

"Pink Diamond has healing powers," Amethyst explained. "If a non-defective gem got cracked then she could make them better just like that. But you can't fix broken," she said, and tipped herself and the stool sideways onto the floor by way of emphasis.

Ronaldo gingerly opened the door. "Thank you for your time, o wise Oracle."

"Ugh, so lame," Amethyst complained, kicking her legs in the air.

PeeDee switched off the wall light and ushered Connie out. "We'll come back again when we can. We'll figure something out."

The prone gem pointed a finger at the ceiling. "Yeah, well, if you need me I'll probably be right here."

"It was nice meeting you," said Connie.

"Bleh."

The door closed on Amethyst, and the three humans made their way back upstairs.

* * *

At Ronaldo's insistence, they congregated at the top of the cliff beyond the windmill. On the horizon, the sea and sky blended together in a fuzzy grey mist. Somewhere, a waterspout sucked gallons of ocean into the sky.

Connie felt exhausted. Seeking refuge in mundanity, she pointed to a damaged fence post. "If someone doesn't fix that, one of the goats could get through and hurt itself."

Unsurprisingly, this observation was not commented on. "Now you know what's at stake," PeeDee said. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"Can you imagine how we felt?" Ronaldo gushed, tense with excitement. "In the face of such ground-shaking revelations about the gems?"

"That they came from the stars?" Connie agreed. "It's incredible."

"Not just their origins," PeeDee prompted, "but about their very nature."

Connie nodded solemnly. "They're not all very kind to each other."

"They can be hurt!" Ronaldo exclaimed simultaneously. "They're not invincible, like we were always told."

Connie stared at him with distaste. "**That's** what you take from this?"

PeeDee mediated: "So they're hypocrites, and they try and tell us we're bad while running their society like that. And they're obviously the ones causing the food shortages! It was never us!"

Connie shook her head. "She didn't say that. You heard her, Pink Diamond wants to save us. That's confirmed."

An exclamation caught itself in PeeDee's throat, before he responded with barely-suppressed frustration. "Think about it. It turns out Pink Diamond's been saying that for thousands of years before they ever interfered in our society! So why jump in then, and what was the point? What have they actually done for us? All that's happened since then is that there are less people."

"We don't know that," Connie insisted. "And they're doing plenty to help, even just this winter."

"There's only one explanation," Ronaldo declared. "They removed our leaders to mark the final phase of their plan to get us out of their way. This isn't protection at all, it's... managed extinction!"

Connie met Ronaldo's manic stare, and tried without success to think of anyone less suited to the responsibility of caring for the Amethyst imprisoned in that darkened room.

After a few moments, she averted her eyes. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked quietly.

Ronaldo was confused. "Uh, to meet the Oracle. You know? In the..."

"I mean," she expanded, "why me? Why any of this? Why not just keep it to yourselves?"

"Firstly, we're not the only ones who know about this," PeeDee said. "We need to have people we can trust, to get the word out about what the gems are really like. And we especially need to know if we can trust the peacekeeper. That's why you're here."

Connie gave a sigh of exasperation. "So you just wanted to know what my _dad_ would do, if he knew about it?"

"The last peacekeeper was on our side," Ronaldo said. "But our Zircon got too suspicious, and now she's gone. It's been... difficult." He looked dejected.

"But I don't _know_ what he'd do. And it's a lot to ask, if that's what happened to his predecessor! Isn't there any other way? Won't Amethyst's gem..."

Ronaldo frantically shushed her. "Never use that name outdoors! Use her code name, you never know who's listening."

Connie gritted her teeth. "Fine. So will the Oracle's gem ever get better? She did say it had stopped getting worse."

PeeDee held his hands up, at a loss. "I think she's stuck like that. We're low on options, and the Oracle is our only link to the truth. I know this is difficult, but we really need your help."

Connie put one hand over her eyes, massaging her forehead. "I'll try and figure it out, all right? I just... I need time to think. And I might have more questions. Will you be able to tell me if the coast is clear to come and visit?"

"Sure, just ask one of us and we'll come with you."

Connie thought about what she had learned. She needed time alone, time to think.

"I'm going back to the festival," she said finally. "I don't think we should be seen together."


	12. A Short Drama

By arrangement, Connie set off back down the hill first, with the boys to follow a few minutes later. Retracing her steps, she at last had some peace to gather her thoughts about the events of the morning.

In a strange, ridiculous way, part of her was relieved. Surely now, the facts of the situation couldn't get any worse. And there was a sense of power from being in on this secret. It made the settlement seem smaller, and the world bigger. It neatly divided her life into before and after.

Her foremost thought was that it was wrong to keep Amethyst trapped in that little room. Even if it was for her own protection, the gem was clearly unhappy there. The idea that she had been cooped up like that, for much longer than Connie or her parents had even been alive, was almost too horrible for words. And there was no suggestion that anyone was trying to actually help Amethyst — the whole focus was on Amethyst helping them. PeeDee and Ronaldo's fanaticism was blinding them to what should be their real priorities.

Pink Diamond was emerging as a much more complex figure than the fantasy from the official portraits. Maybe the gems didn't hold the moral high ground they'd laid claim to for all these years. But the fact that the future of humanity had always been her priority shone through. Perhaps, Connie thought, the problems originated with the gems carrying out her orders, gems that secretly resented Pink Diamond's choice of priorities. If there was only a way to contact Pink Diamond, to let her know that her efforts to save the planet weren't working well enough. That relocations were being used as a way to punish humans, and Amethysts were being persecuted for things that weren't their fault...

She emerged back into the square by the civic hall, where a performance was in progress on the stage. The young man Connie had seen on the stage earlier in the day was striding around dressed in a shiny crown with a red sheet for a robe. Acting opposite him was a woman Connie recognised from the bakery, wearing pink finery and a neat stage wig. Connie sidled through the crowd while trying not to attract attention.

"Accept my offer," the on-stage Pink Diamond was saying, "and your people shall want for nothing. All who are under the protection of the Diamond Authority shall live long and comfortable lives!"

"Bah!" the king snarled, ruthlessly chewing the scenery. "I need to keep my arbitrary position of power so I can spend more time telling people what to do, and assigning value to small pieces of metal! I shan't bring happiness to the people, if it should mean curtailing my own authority! Be gone, Pink Diamond, we have no need or want of your kindness!"

The baker raised her hands in beatific appeal. "I begin to fear that I have made a mistake in assuming humanity's leaders are as just as ours. Can you truly claim to speak for a people who live their lives in suffering so that you can grow in wealth?"

"I claim my authority by right of conquest!" the monarch declared. "Those who have opposed me were silenced! All that is in the earth and heavens was put here for my benefit, and I care not for your fanciful warnings!"

"Well," said the pretend gem, turning to smile at the audience, "let's put it to the test! Do you think I should listen to the king?" She gesticulated in encouragement.

"No-o-o!" came a chorus of voices from the crowd.

The king flinched as though under physical assault.

"Do you want to end the wars and famine, and live free under the protection of Pink Diamond?"

"Ye-e-es!" came the happy cheer.

"Noooo," the king cried theatrically, sinking to his knees.

"And should the king be stripped of his undeserved authority forevermore?"

"Yeah!" people shouted jubilantly. The king's crown was unceremoniously confiscated, and he was lightly pelted with pine cones from the audience.

"Stop!" the ersatz Diamond admonished, holding a hand up to the audience. "We gems abhor violence of all kinds."

("But we were given these to throw," one person complained.)

"The mistakes of humans in the past can stay in the past. This new era is one of forgiveness. The world is big enough for humans to live in peace, and so I shall send your king to live where people do not know him and he can start over." While she spoke, the actor playing the king crawled awkwardly off-stage. "From now on," she continued, "your leaders shall be selected not based on their hunger for power, but by their merit and aptitude! And my gems will work closely with them to keep humanity on the right track. While I divide the inhabitable lands into optimally-sized settlements, I invite you to meet: the first civic leader!"

She gestured off-stage with a flourish, and after a too-long pause, the same actor as before returned to the stage wearing much more everyday attire. "Wow!" he said. "There certainly is a lot of stuff to take care of! But I have been chosen for the job based on my innate suitability for it and am thus essentially above criticism."

"Don't worry," said the actress, "I've arranged the settlements so well that it might sometimes look as if you don't need to work that hard to run them. But you will be doing an awful lot of work behind the scenes that people might not always appreciate!"

_That's right,_ Connie remembered, _Mr Dewey wrote this, didn't he?_ She decided this was a good point at which to extricate herself from the audience again, and snuck her way through the crowd to look for something to eat. Before long she found a table attended by Kiki Pita, and gratefully accepted some of the snacks which her family had catered.

After the play reached its conclusion, Mr DeMayo and some other musicians took up their instruments and there was music and dancing. Now that Connie's hunger was sated, her next priority was to navigate the rest of the day without attracting any suspicion. To this end, she threaded her way back through the crowd to Vidalia's table, where Vidalia was still behind her easel sipping a cup of apple juice.

"Good to see you again," said Vidalia. "You're having a good time?"

"Absolutely," Connie responded. "I really enjoyed the play."

"Well, there's no accounting for taste. Hey, I've got some downtime if you want a portrait!"

"That'd be nice," Connie replied, taking a seat opposite. "Because I liked the play so much, I wondered if you could draw it being performed in the background?"

Vidalia shrugged. "I can put whatever you like."

"That'd be great then. A picture of me enjoying the first scene of the play, which was my favourite scene." As alibis went, this would be pretty shaky. But it was better than nothing. She sat patiently while Vidalia sketched.

After a shorter time than Connie had been expecting, Vidalia gave a cheery wave of dismissal, without taking her eyes off her canvas. "I've got enough to work from here, I can do the rest from memory. Go have fun."

Connie set back off wandering around the square, hoping to find one of her parents and reinforce the impression that she had been here all along. Around her, people seemed to be enjoying themselves. Contrary to his earlier denigrating remarks, Buck was merrily playing Mr Smiley's hoop toss game. Jenny and Sadie both awaited their own turn. Connie eyed the trio carefully as she sidled past, wondering whether any of them knew more than they were letting on. Certainly, Buck was always behaving as though he was privy to some secret information and knew he had the upper hand.

Before long, Connie found her mother chatting with Mr Dewey by a display of cakes. "Good afternoon," she greeted Connie on her approach. "Have you been having fun?"

"Yes, it's all very interesting," Connie said, and was surprised by her own lack of anxiety in this interaction. On the contrary, there was a sense of power in the realisation that her mom had no magical insight into where Connie had been or what she had been doing.

"Ah, young Maheshwaran," Mr Dewey addressed her with an affability that bordered on insincere. "You'll be pleased to know both of your parents speak highly of your character. I'd be glad to know what you thought of this afternoon's performance — did you know that I was the author?"

Connie gave it a moment's thought. "It expressed some very admirable sentiments," she said, "although I think the message might be a little diluted by having the civic leader played by the same actor as the king."

Mr Dewey immediately became very flustered. "Well... that was merely the consequence of a practical difficulty in the casting process, there's certainly no symbolism in... do you really think anyone would read anything into..?" He laughed nervously, looking to Priyanka for help but finding only a blank stare. "Uh, what's that?" Here he raised his voice, cupping his hand to his ear. "I, uh, think I'm needed elsewhere, so I'll leave you two to catch up on family business. Ha ha!"

"You missed the results of the lantern contest," Mrs Maheshwaran said mildly, as Mr Dewey's footsteps receded rapidly into the distance.

"Oh dear." Connie thought it best not to get defensive about her whereabouts. "How did I... uh, who came in first?"

"The winner was a squash carved into a house with different scenes in the windows. I'm afraid the name of the artist escapes me, but I gather he's regarded as something of an unstoppable force in that particular contest. Still," she smiled, "I did break my promise a little and used my influence to get your pumpkin recognised in a semi-official award category."

"Really? What category?"

Priyanka hesitated slightly before elaborating. "Most improved."

"Mom," Connie protested, abashed. "Isn't that a bit of a stretch? I mean, thank you, but..."

Connie's mother patted her on the shoulder. "Make sure and have a look at the other lanterns so you'll know what you're up against next year."

"I'll be sure to do that." Connie looked around. "Where's Dad? I haven't seen him."

Her mother followed suit, giving a cursory glance around the square. "I'm not sure. He might have been called away by, oh, some trivial business or other."

This gave Connie pause — not because of her mom's reply, but the manner in which it had been delivered. Perhaps it was because Connie herself had something to hide that she was quick to recognise that same attitude in somebody else. She would have been willing to bet that her dad's whereabouts were no mystery, and started worrying anew about Amethyst.

Pointing to the nearby array of baked goods, she asked: "I expect I'm keeping you from judging these cakes?"

"Well, that and the fact that I can't keep my judging panel together. I do wish Mr Dewey hadn't run off like that."

"Either way," Connie said, "I wouldn't like to be the one holding things up."

Priyanka smiled. "You want us to get to the point where the cakes can be served out? How... selfless of you. All right, off you go and keep out of mischief."

Connie scanned the festival for any sign of her dad, not really expecting to see him. Anxious, she paced the perimeter of the square, trying to check whether there were eyes on her. With forced nonchalance she veered off back toward the bakery. By the time she got near, it was obvious that there was no activity near the windmill, so she tried to visualise a route back to the square that would let her check what was happening on as many streets as possible. If she quickly checked the boardwalk, she could loop round to her house — there were any number of legitimate reasons for briefly going back home — and then zigzag back to the square via another route.

It was only when she got close to the house that she noticed a handful of other residents who had either eschewed the festival or were taking a break, loitering on a corner conversing in hushed tones.

"Three of them, that I saw," said a man whom Connie recognised as one of the neighbours who had donated vegetable seeds when they moved in.

"Do you think it's starting again?" asked a woman with a worried expression.

When they noticed Connie, the conversation suddenly died. "I'd better be getting back to it," the man muttered awkwardly, and the adults dispersed, but not before each glancing conspicuously toward Waterman Street.

Connie walked slowly in the direction they had been looking. Things were quieter at this end of the settlement, but there were some sounds of activity. Stopping by the corner, Connie leaned out until she could see the row of houses on the other side of the street. Partway down, she could see her dad. And next to him, the unmistakeable figure of his Zircon.

The two of them were watching the doorway of one of the houses, and now another gem emerged through the door, a tall one with a peachy-orange complexion. She unceremoniously dragged something over to the Zircon. Connie's eyes widened as she realised it was Lars, struggling ineffectually in the large gem's grip as his feet trailed along the paving.

It was too far away to hear what anyone was saying. Lars looked defiantly up from the ground where he had been dropped. The Zircon was disregarding him totally and saying something to Doug, who shrugged in reply. Another orange gem, nearly identical to the one that had brought Lars out, emerged from the house with an empty-handed gesture.

There was nothing to do except hope that Lars was all right. It wouldn't help anyone if she got caught spying, so Connie quietly slipped away.

* * *

Lars turned out to be unharmed by his encounter with the gems. Connie found this out when he confronted her on the periphery of the festival.

"Hey, bigmouth!" he yelled, pushing her shoulder from behind so she turned to face him. "The gems just searched my house and trashed the place, so thanks a bunch! What did you tell them?"

"Lars!" Connie exclaimed. "I haven't said anything, my dad never talks to me about that stuff! Are you all right? What were they looking for?"

Their altercation had attracted the attention of Buck and Sadie, who ran over. Sadie was visibly concerned, while Buck merely looked suspicious.

In the presence of an audience of his peers, Lars's attitude took on an aspect of thin bravado. "Heck if I know," he replied, "they kicked me out. Lucky for you it's not my first time getting in trouble with a Jasper, so I know how to handle things." His eyes narrowed. "It's probably the same one. I bet she has a grudge against me."

Sadie anxiously butted in. "What's going on? You got into trouble?"

"He was taking it out on Connie," Buck announced. "That's not very nice, Lars."

"I don't need protecting, thanks," Connie said, with less patience than she had intended. She was glad Lars had calmed down when the others approached, but either way he was largely harmless.

Sadie was looking to both Connie and Buck for reassurance. "Why are the gems bothering Lars? He hasn't done anything, right?"

"Nothing they know about," Lars smirked.

Buck considered this. "I guess that if Lars had anything to hide, they would have already found it."

Lars briefly glared at Buck, before regaining his composure. "They can't get you for what's up here," he smugly declared, tapping the side of his head with an index finger.

"So it's just a mistake?" Sadie asked. "Everything's going to be all right?"

"Uh, Lars," Connie carefully asked, "why were you at home instead of here at the festival?"

"That's none of your..." Lars began snappishly, before remembering the others. "Everyone knows the harvest festival is totally boring until later on. It's kiddy stuff. I should be asking you guys why you were even here."

Sadie gave an exasperated sigh, but did not respond.

Connie addressed the group. "But Lars's parents were here with everyone else, right?"

"I guess so," Buck offered.

"You guess so?" Sadie was more emphatic. "Mrs Barriga was on the stage!"

Buck avoided eye contact. "Oh. Yeah. That."

"Hey, leave my folks out of it, why don't you?" Lars grumbled.

"I'm just saying," Connie pressed on, "maybe they didn't even know Lars would be home. If you wanted to search someone's house, wouldn't today be the ideal day? Everyone's gathered right here."

"Good point," Buck admitted.

Sadie was looking worried again. "So... how do we even know that's the only house they went in?"

"I guess we don't," Buck acknowledged, glancing briefly over his shoulder. Connie tried to intuit whether anyone was looking especially guilty, but had no success.

"But... we know because that Jasper still has it out for me from before," Lars attempted, his protests by now rudderless.

Connie decided to press the point and see what anyone would admit to knowing. "What are they looking for?" she asked the group. "I know this has happened before, even if nobody likes to talk about it."

"I wish I knew," Sadie sighed. "I wish they'd just find it and this could all stop."

Lars snorted. "Please," he scoffed, "you all don't have anything to worry about, with your important parents."

"Really?" Sadie snapped. "You still think that's any kind of guarantee?"

"Buck has nothing to hide," Buck solemnly declared.

Sadie sadly shook her head. "I'm glad you can be so calm, but I'm worried after last time." She addressed Connie: "You know they kicked people out of the settlement who hadn't even done anything? I'm sorry, but I don't see how that's right."

"Don't say that stuff to her!" Lars hissed.

"It doesn't matter," Connie said. "I'm not involved so I don't know for sure, but if I were you I'd just... act normal. Maybe check your books for anything that could be taken the wrong way if they found it," she added, remembering the questionable novella from the library.

"Like what?" Buck asked, his stare piercing her.

"Like..." Connie didn't want to get too specific. "Anything that could be interpreted as a commentary or criticism of the Diamond Authority. Look," she concluded, faced with puzzled expressions from Sadie and Lars, "I'm not saying that'd get you in trouble. I don't know. All I'm saying is that if there's nothing in your house to find, then what else can you do?"

Buck gazed down at her through half-lidded eyes. "So you're saying that in a situation you can't control, the only real way you can help yourself is to refrain from worrying?"

"I... suppose so?"

"Very wise," he nodded. "I think I've heard something like that before."

Connie checked the level of the sun. "Does anyone know what time it is?"

Lars squinted at the clock on the side of the civic hall. "Maybe quarter to three."

Connie nodded. "We should go and play that turnip throwing game."

* * *

Later, as the sun dipped beneath the rooftops, Connie walked home carrying a portion of cake and a quarter of a turnip. She'd been to Vidalia's table and found the easel abandoned, but her finished portrait was tucked in with some others under a makeshift paperweight. Connie had carefully rolled it up and was carrying it under one arm. She'd also taken the liberty of helping herself to a blank sheet of wallpaper, which was already coming in handy as she'd used it to wrap up the cake.

There was still a reasonable contingent in the square making the most of what was left of the day, but rumours had swiftly spread about the gems carrying out searches and this had cast something of a pall over the afternoon. People kept finding excuses to go home, Mr Dewey included. Connie was secretly relieved things were ending a bit early, as she was by this point desperate to get home and have some time to herself.

The big surprise of the day was that Lars had baked one of the cakes, to a recipe which included carrots and zucchini. Connie had never known him to show anything but disdain for his parents' profession, and yet it had placed quite highly with the judges.

Connie mentally corrected herself: on any _other_ day that might have been the big surprise of the day.

Stepping gratefully through the doorway of her house, she made her way to the pantry to drop off the food items before retiring to the drawing room. Her parents were seated but did not appear entirely relaxed.

"Hey, kiddo. Had a good day?" Her dad gave a tired smile.

"Not bad," Connie replied automatically. "I won most improved in the lantern contest, but I suspect nepotism." Then, after a pause, "I bumped into Lars and he was quite agitated. He said some gems had been searching his house?"

Doug pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I suppose you were going to find out sooner or later. I'm afraid there's been a little trouble in the settlement, and it's been necessary to... well, just carry out some checks to rule people out of the investigation."

"I wouldn't be so quick to rule anything out with that boy," Priyanka opined matter-of-factly. She turned to Connie, not hiding her annoyance. "He was taunting your father and his Zircon. 'You won't find anything,'" she quoted.

"I don't think he was _taunting_ us," Doug wearily responded. "I think he was simply remarking that we wouldn't find anything. Which we didn't."

"But I don't understand," said Connie, keeping her voice neutral. "What are you looking for?"

Her dad gently gestured for her to take a seat. "It's something very important, and not even I'm allowed to know all the details. Which kind of makes my job difficult, I don't mind admitting." He shook his head and chuckled weakly.

"You don't know the details?" Connie parroted. She didn't trust herself to be proactive in her questioning without inadvertently mentioning some detail she wasn't supposed to know about.

"Apparently they have evidence that someone is hiding something that shouldn't be here, and it's important to the gems that they find it."

Connie's mother piped up with an opinion. "It has to be some kind of unauthorised technology. I've been saying, that would explain why they can't tell your father everything."

"Well, I wouldn't need a technical diagram," Doug muttered.

"So, Connie," Priyanka continued, "it's very important that if you encounter anything strange or suspicious in the settlement, you let your father or me know about it."

"I got into this job to keep people safe," Doug sighed, almost to himself. "Mediate, stop bad behaviour. Keep the peace. I'm not used to dealing with the gems' issues."

"If it's a gem issue," Connie asked, "why do they need your help?"

Priyanka appeared on the verge of chastising Connie, but instead explained: "The gems don't need our help for anything, but management of the settlements is delegated to us as a matter of courtesy. You know that. But when there's important gem business needing to be taken care of, they expect results. We all live here as their guests, and it's important that we abide by their rules. Someone here isn't doing that, so it's vital for all of us that we find them and take appropriate action."

"But..." Connie considered the best way to make her point. "If they can't even tell Dad exactly what this person has done, then... doesn't that mean you could break the gems' rules without even knowing about it?"

"It doesn't matter," her mother retorted, exasperated. "Your father doesn't have any choice. Show him some consideration."

"It's fine, Connie." Doug looked with concern at his wife, who made an effort to compose herself. "Look, Pink Diamond has nothing but reverence for humanity's traditions. As long as you stay within those traditions, you've nothing to worry about. Zircon told me that herself." He took a deep breath before addressing Priyanka. "We need to think things over before I meet her again. She wasn't very happy about today."

Connie looked at her father's care-worn expression, and knew with absolute certainty that she couldn't send him into his next meeting burdened with the knowledge that Amethyst was in the windmill. It simply wasn't an option.

"There's cake in the pantry," she said.

"Yes, that'd be nice," said Mrs Maheshwaran. "There are some leftover snacks we brought home too — why don't you bring them through and we can have a little supper in here?"

Supper away from the dining table? Such a level of informality was unheard of in the Maheshwaran household, but soon enough the three of them sat enjoying a light repast. Connie was a little worried about dropping crumbs and drawing her parents' ire, but they both seemed too preoccupied to even notice. She wondered whether they felt better or worse for having told her about what was going on.

She took a sip of water before touching the cake, and asked, "Is tomorrow a school day?"

Priyanka nodded without looking up. "Yes, classes will be back in session."

"I thought so, but it's easy to lose track when there's so much happening. I need to take back some library books, so that's good anyway."

There was only one waxlight burning and the room had become quite dark. Connie savoured a mouthful of cake and sank back into her seat.

"Is Lars in trouble?" she asked.

"It doesn't look as if Lars has anything to worry about," her dad assured her. "It's not his first run-in with the Authority, but they found nothing of interest."

"This is his cake, you know?"

Doug nodded appreciatively. "It's pretty good."

Mrs Maheshwaran remained silent. It appeared that in her capacity as a judge she had thought highly of the cake. Given her unconcealed antipathy toward Lars, it wasn't clear whether she had known he was an entrant. Perhaps she was just that good at remaining impartial. Either way, she said nothing.

Her supper finished, Connie excused herself to bed, grateful for the chance of solitude. Her parents bade her goodnight, and seemed similarly glad to be alone with their own thoughts.


	13. Traditions & Responsibilities

Connie had spent hours dwelling on the realities of what she now knew was going on.

Perhaps her dad would have been sympathetic, perhaps not. As far as she could tell, it wouldn't have made any difference. The Diamond Authority wasn't going to stop looking until Amethyst was found. If Connie's dad didn't cooperate, they might well search every building by force. Or shut the settlement down. Or who knew what. Involving either of her parents would only endanger them.

Connie's instinctive priority was to save Amethyst. From a moral standpoint, the gem's fate seemed more important than anyone else's by virtue of longevity. Next to an immortal being, it was easy to see oneself as essentially disposable. This didn't feel like a particularly heroic sentiment, merely the natural order.

They would need to find a way of smuggling Amethyst out of the settlement, or hiding her somewhere she could truly never be found. Frustratingly, after a sleepless night Connie had only just made it to the education centre on time, and there had been no possibility of speaking to PeeDee or Ronaldo before the morning's lessons. She needed to update them on the events of the previous afternoon, and explain her own standpoint.

"Connie?" Mrs Lezner's voice broke in on her reverie. "What did I just say?"

Connie tried to mentally replay the background noise of the past few moments. "You were talking about... pain and tension?" she ventured.

Mrs Lezner gave her a stern look. "I asked you if you were paying attention."

There were sniggers from a few of the children, and Connie coloured with embarrassment.

"You're an accomplished student, Connie," Mrs Lezner warned her, "but that's no reason to become complacent. You need to be listening."

"Sorry, Mrs Lezner." Connie stared at the table in front of her. "For some reason I didn't sleep very well last night." She imagined the pointed stare she would have liked to give PeeDee at this point, but forced herself not to look at him. Still, when Mrs Lezner turned to write something on the blackboard, she leaned over and whispered urgently, "I need to speak to her again."

"Breaktime," PeeDee hissed back, with a quiet intensity that put Connie's to shame. He did not acknowledge her again for the rest of the lesson.

"We humans have been farming the land for thousands of years," Mrs Lezner was saying. "It's a way of life that fits well with the values of the Diamond Authority, even though it might seem unlike anything the gems need to do. They probably think we're a little strange, having to eat other life forms all the time! But nevertheless, it embodies ideals very close to theirs. It's peaceful, it's self-sufficient, it respects the land."

Connie anticipated one of PeeDee's ironic questions, but he appeared to have lost all interest in school. She couldn't entirely blame him — it was hard to hear about how peaceful the Diamond Authority was when she knew how they were hunting down defective gems.

Finally the class was dismissed for a break, and PeeDee accompanied Connie around the corner of the building where they would not be overheard.

"Could you maybe consider _not_ talking about her right in front of the teacher?" he began.

"Hey, I didn't mention anything that anyone could have understood."

"That's not the point," PeeDee sulked.

It occurred to Connie that he might be stressed about the rumours of houses being searched. "I spoke to my dad. I don't think he knows anything. They searched Lars's house but that was just guesswork." She rolled her eyes. "I think it might have been my mom's idea."

"It's still not good news," said PeeDee.

"I agree. Look, it doesn't matter what my dad does. The gems aren't going to give up looking. I don't think we have much time."

"Maybe." PeeDee looked over his shoulder. "We've been thinking that for ages, though. It's kind of weird, when you think about it. It's as if they want to catch her but they can't be bothered committing the resources to it. Like it's not even that big a priority. And yet whenever they do come in, they don't hesitate to turn our lives upside-down."

"How do they even know she's here?" Connie wondered.

PeeDee sighed. "I've wondered that myself. They just have ways of knowing things. It's not all propaganda, they really are very powerful. That's why we need the Oracle and her insight."

"When can we get back up there?"

PeeDee looked in the general direction of the windmill, which was not visible from their location. "I think the mill's in use today, but it might be empty later. We could go up before dark if you can make it." He looked Connie in the eye. "Is it going to be worth our while, though? Are you going to help us?"

"Firstly, that shouldn't matter. She's not yours, and there's no reason I shouldn't visit. You shouldn't be treating her like a prisoner."

"We're not the ones imprisoning her. That door's locked to keep people out, not in. She could break out in a minute if she wanted, but there's nowhere for her to go."

This didn't answer Connie's point, and she turned up her palm in an impatient gesture.

"Fine," PeeDee relented, "but you have to be careful. If she gets found, and me or Ronaldo get caught, they're going to want names of our co-conspirators. That includes you."

Connie huffed with stifled indignation. "Is that a... some kind of threat?"

"I'm just saying, you're in this now and you can't go having second thoughts." He looked around. "You should be thinking of an excuse to get away this evening."

* * *

Back in front of the education centre, the older kids had let out for a break and were milling around near the entrance. Lars was delivering a self-aggrandising account of his encounter with the gems to anybody willing to pay attention. Among others, Sadie, Kiki and Ronaldo listened with polite scepticism. Lars glanced distractedly at Connie as she approached the group, but continued his story.

"...barged in and said 'What are you doing here!?' So I played it calm and I just said, 'I live here.' Well, she could tell I'd outwitted her so she calls for backup. This other Jasper comes in and she's the biggest, _the_ biggest Jasper you've ever seen. So in an act of symbolic resistance I just went limp, so she had to drag me out. No way was I just doing what they say in my own home. She threw me out on the street to where Zircon is lording it over the peacekeeper, and I just said to them, 'I don't know what you're even doing because you're just wasting your time.'"

"Were they angry?" Kiki asked.

"Hah! More like embarrassed. The Jaspers came out with nothing, and in the end they all just said something about 'Thank you for your co-operation' and sloped off. More like, thanks for messing up my house. They've tipped over all the furniture, even pulled up some of the floorboards. My parents took it pretty harsh, but what can you do? I can't help it if the Diamond Authority is threatened by my... you know, my free... uh, spirit."

"I'm just glad you're all right," said Sadie.

Kiki nodded. "Good job on not making the situation worse by trying to fight back."

Lars was caught off guard, but had no choice but to accept the praise at face value. "I won't sink to their level," he managed.

"Hey," Kiki continued, "we have a whole bunch of leftovers from yesterday at the cafeteria if you want to come in after school. That goes for everyone else, too," she added, turning to the group.

"Sounds good to me," Sadie hastily enthused.

Connie quietly walked back into the education centre and turned right to her mother's classroom, knocking as she walked in.

Mrs Maheshwaran sat behind her desk, staring at the ceiling in a moment of contemplation before turning her attention to her daughter. "Good morning, Connie. Is anything the matter?"

"Everything's fine, Mom. I just wanted to let you know Kiki invited me to go round for dinner after school, and ask whether that would be all right?"

Priyanka gave a tired smile. "That should be fine. Kiki is a very conscientious girl. Make sure and be polite to Mr Pita."

"I will. Thanks, Mom."

Having established this alibi, Connie returned to her own classroom for a halting lesson in spelling and grammar. When Mrs Lezner finally lost patience, they stopped for lunch. Connie approached Mrs Lezner as the other children rushed out, and brought up the matter of her accumulated library books. "Can I get into the library if I go home and fetch them?"

"Of course, Connie, don't be silly." Mrs Lezner dismissed her with a beneficent gesture. "There's no hurry, I'll be right here."

Connie took a brisk walk home for her lunch. First, she ran upstairs to her room and gathered some books: _The Female American_, _Micromégas_ and a couple of anonymous novellas which had proved too tiresome to finish. Then, she went to the kitchen for a modest lunch of bread, pickle and cheese. There was no sign of her dad, and she assumed he was at the civic hall, or following up on some theoretical act of mischief perpetrated by Onion during the distraction of the harvest festival. She briefly wondered whether this business with Amethyst was limiting his available time to keep an eye out for miscreants, or whatever it was that he normally did.

With her lunch finished, Connie returned to Mrs Lezner with the books clutched under one arm. "I think I know which shelves they came from," she said, "but I'll ask if I can't find the right place."

"I've been meaning to reorganise in there for ages," said Mrs Lezner as she unlocked the door. "But there always seems to be something more important that needs taking care of."

Left unsupervised, Connie set to returning the books to their approximate locations. She found a thin gap for _Micromégas_ and pushed it so far back on the shelf that it was barely visible. With this accomplished, she turned her attention briefly to the typesetting machine. There was a neat stack of paper on a high shelf above it, which had to be one reason the room was kept locked. The buttons and levers of the machine seemed to promise infinite satisfaction if messed with, but it wasn't worth getting in trouble over.

After glancing out of the door to check that the lunch break still wasn't over, she went to have another look at the science dictionary. Frustratingly, almost everything she could think of looking up belonged to the wrong half of the alphabet. 'Gem' was a non-starter, as were 'Amethyst', 'Jasper' and 'Diamond'.

(She had previously looked up 'gem' in the lone dictionary volume at home, and found the following definitions:

_1\. A precious jewel or ſtone, of whatever kind.  
2\. A race of women, dwelling in certain ſacred lands.  
3\. The firſt bud of a plant._

All of which were more or less useless.)

A quick perusal of the volume in front of her revealed that there was no entry for 'Zircon'. Nor one for 'settlement'. There was in fact an entry for 'windmill' whose contents were interesting, but predictably unhelpful. Connie sighed. The problem was that, by definition, she didn't know what things she didn't know. You could spend months, years browsing this library and no doubt find all sorts of useful information, but the situation as she perceived it imposed a narrower time limit. Frustrated, she returned the book to its shelf again and returned to the classroom for the afternoon's lesson.

Mrs Lezner spent the next couple of hours going through a somewhat familiar geometry lesson. "I'll stop going over this when I see evidence you've all taken it in," was her response to a muttered complaint from the front row. The school days were getting shorter in response to the limited daylight, but some students were never satisfied, and anxiously eyed the lengthening shadows outside. Finally, after a lengthy tangent on the philosophical significance of mathematical constants, the day was over.

Connie waited until they were clear of the building before speaking to PeeDee. "I'll see you later," she told him.

"We'll meet you there. Don't go up until the sails have stopped turning."

* * *

They parted ways at the potato manufactory, and Connie entered Mr Pita's cafeteria. It turned out the older kids were already here, which had to mark the first time that her mom's lessons had ended before Mrs Lezner's. Jenny, Kiki, Lars, Sadie and Buck were seated around one of the tables. Connie wandered over to the table feeling like an interloper, but Sadie was quick to scoot her chair over and make room.

"Hey, Connie," Jenny beamed. "Welcome to the stale leftovers festival."

"Does everything have to be a festival?" Connie wondered.

"Celebrate while you can," Buck calmly asserted.

Jenny grinned as she stared intensely at Connie. "Lars was just telling us about his ordeal again. I'll bet you know what they were doing there, right?"

"Not really," Connie murmured, hesitantly reaching for a bread snack.

Sadie came to Connie's defence. "I'm sure Mr Maheshwaran wouldn't tell Connie the details of a... an ongoing investigation."

Jenny waved it off, pretending to lose interest. "Sure, I guess. Just making conversation."

"We are not our parents," Buck declared. "For now, their responsibilities are not ours." He took a sip of his drink. "To truly live in the present, you must abandon thoughts of the future."

"It's kind of hard not to worry about the future, though, isn't it?" Kiki politely volunteered. "I mean, not just this situation with the searches but for the settlement in general. Does anyone ever get worried about how one day we'll all be in charge of keeping things going? And how we'd manage?"

"I mean, I kind of know what you mean," Sadie admitted. "It seems a lot of the time when people move in, it's from settlements that were shut down because they weren't viable. I wouldn't want that to happen here."

Connie remembered her walk to the boundary, and Ronaldo's jars of soil. "I heard the outermost fields are losing their ability to support crops," she said.

"Well," Jenny added, "I heard there used to be six other settlements right near here but they're all gone." She reacted impatiently to the group's blank stares. "You know, B1C1, B1C2..."

"I'm almost certain that's not true," said Buck.

"Lars," Kiki asked, "did you ever see anything like that? You know... that time?"

Lars, who had reverted to a sullen silence upon Connie's arrival, was momentarily startled to have been addressed. "Uh... no, not really. There isn't really anything out there, that I ever saw." He warmed to the theme, pleased to relive his moment of rebellion in leaving the settlement. "You get to the top of a hill and then it's just rocks, canyons and stuff. For miles."

Sadie sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if we're just staving off the inevitable, but what else can we do?" After a beat she persisted: "No, seriously, does anyone know what we could be doing differently?"

This killed the conversation stone dead for a few moments.

"Have you seen how much people eat after they've been working in the fields?" Jenny mused. "Too much hard work — that's why we're running low on food."

Buck looked sceptical. "So if we grew less food... we'd need less food?"

"That's not what I mean. We should be making the work easier for ourselves, instead of living in the past!"

"We have it easier than a lot of people," said Kiki. "We've got all these manufactories, and the windmill."

"I'm talking about something new," Jenny protested. "Like a, a horse-drawn scythe or something."

"Yeah, and then after you've designed your amazing machine you've got to get permission to even build it," Lars complained. "We should be doing stuff the gems can't find a reason to police. Like, it's super dumb that everyone just has whatever they want in their allotments. You know there are people actually growing celery? Does anyone even like celery?"

"Celery's not so bad," Buck responded with a level stare. "It adds crunch to a salad."

Lars was momentarily thrown, but continued his thought. "If it was up to me there'd be a list of all the best things to grow and the right amounts, and everyone would have to do that. That way nobody's dragging the settlement down by just growing a load of... lettuce, or something."

"I don't know, Lars," Sadie replied cautiously. "These are ancient freedoms. If people didn't have their own patch of land to use as they please, it could affect the fabric of society."

"People are generous with what they've grown because they have personal pride in it," Kiki opined. "I don't know if we'd keep this place going otherwise."

Lars leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "It was only a thought," he sulked.

There was a moment of silence and Connie piped up: "I had a thought about the fish — well, more of a question really."

She had been so quiet since arriving that the others seemed to have almost forgotten she was there. Some of them suddenly appeared uncomfortable as they thought back over the last few minutes of conversation.

"Do we use any of the leftover fish for fertilising the soil? I was thinking about this, and it's the only source of nutrients that comes in from outside the settlement."

Buck and Sadie silently deferred to the Pita sisters. "There's not that much left over," Kiki said. "Once you've cooked up the flesh, you can use the bones for soup. That only leaves a few entrails."

Jenny offered her own opinion. "You're not going to cover much ground with what you can get from the beach. Until a whale washes up," she chuckled. "Or a kraken."

"Aren't the fish a grey area anyway?" Sadie wondered. "I've an idea we're not really supposed to be out on the beach. I guess they turn a blind eye though, as long as it doesn't cause any harm."

Buck nodded. "If anyone gets hurt out there, there'll be a real tightening up of rules."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Kiki insisted, "if you go out at the right time."

"No, maybe they're right." Jenny grinned at her sister. "Maybe I'll tell Dad we can't go beachcombing any more."

Kiki refused to rise to this provocation, and the conversation moved on. Connie looked to the window and the waning light outside. Soon enough, she would need to excuse herself so she could make her way to the windmill. She didn't fancy attempting the walk in darkness. It was a matter of timing it so nobody thought she was being rude.

She had blanked on the direction of the discussion. "There are no songs about insects," Buck was saying. "Is that unfair? Don't they have as much right as anyone to be celebrated in music?"

Around them, only a few other people had come in for food, and Mr Pita was not especially busy. He noticed Connie looking at him and narrowed his eyes, and she quickly looked away.

There was by now an intense discussion taking place about the intelligence of bees. "They work so hard all the time," Lars said, "but they should know we're just going to take their honey. It happens every time."

"I admire their industry," Buck shrugged.

Kiki smiled. "They have their own little society, like people. It's cute."

Sadie barked with laughter. "Don't they have a queen? Maybe we should tell them..." — she glanced at Connie — "uh, never mind."

Connie anticipated the punchline: "We could tell them to get rid of the queen and let us run the hive instead?" She smiled to show there was no harm in the joke.

Rather than being put at ease, Sadie seemed embarrassed. "Uh... something like that, ha ha." She enunciated the sound in lieu of actually laughing.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Connie felt everyone's eyes on her. "You know," she said in stilted tones, "my parents don't like me to stay out too late. I should maybe think about heading back."

"Oh, well it was nice to see you," Jenny said conclusively.

Buck nodded. "Always valuable to have an extra perspective on matters."

Connie stood up and sank her head in an awkward half-bow. "Well... thanks for inviting me. I'm sure I'll see you all soon."

The older kids quietly observed Connie as she made her way out. She briefly thanked Mr Pita for the meal, and hastened out of the door before she could be pulled in to any further conversation.

* * *

There were no two ways about it. Connie was frustrated that people were still walking on eggshells around her, afraid to express their own thoughts in case she, what? Made her dad set up a meeting to pass on second-hand small talk to his Zircon? Connie was pretty sure that she'd have better things to do with her time if _she_ was a Zircon. Yet if these searches continued, she couldn't foresee feeling comfortable at any dinner table in the settlement. Of course, she couldn't tell them that she knew what the Diamond Authority was really here for and that it had nothing to do with them.

There was a cold wind against her as she marched up the boardwalk in the direction of the bakery, and she turned her head to shield her eyes from its full force.

At least she could talk openly with PeeDee and Ronaldo. And no matter what their motives and methods, at least they were being proactive in doing something they thought would help the settlement. For all the older kids' talk about finding a better way of doing things, they seemed awfully quick to dismiss each other's ideas in favour of tradition and stagnation. For once, Connie felt as if she was on the side of progress, and it was refreshing.

She picked her way carefully up the hill, the silhouette of the deserted windmill gradually filling the sky. A goat sheltered in a recess in the ground, and she took a wide berth to avoid disturbing it. At the top of the hill, the locked sails of the windmill strained against the gusts coming in from the ocean. Connie climbed the steps of the building and cautiously knocked on the door.

After a few moments, the door creaked open and Ronaldo stared intently through the gap. "Were you followed?" he dramatically hissed.

Connie slowly turned to the hill, where both of them had an unobstructed view all the way back to the main settlement. In the lingering daylight, any other human ascending the slope would have been clearly and immediately visible. "I don't think so," she said, her voice deadpan.

Ronaldo welcomed her into the mill, where PeeDee was lounging on some bags of flour. "Glad you could make it," he said, climbing awkwardly from his makeshift seat. "We need to chat about a couple of things before we head downstairs."

"About the searches?" Connie guessed. The mill was no warmer than outside, and she breathed into her cupped hands. "I spoke to my dad. I don't think he or the gems know where to look, they're just guessing." She looked from PeeDee to Ronaldo and back. "I'm assuming Lars has nothing to do with this..?"

Ronaldo reared up in self-importance. "For your own safety, you can't know who is or isn't privy to the secret of the Oracle!" He then slouched his posture again and added: "But no, Lars doesn't know anything about it."

"What'll we do if it's all starting again?" PeeDee anxiously implored his brother, before turning to Connie. "Can you talk to your dad, get him on-side? We have to go with your judgement on this."

"Look, it's no use," Connie sighed. "You already know it's never been the peacekeeper driving this. If the gems want to find the Oracle then they're not going to give up. I wouldn't be surprised if there are more searches, and soon. You need to make sure nobody has anything incriminating that can be found."

"Hmm." Ronaldo paced up and down. "If what you say is true, then we need to come up with a new hiding place. Somewhere they could never think to look." He stopped in front of her. "Connie. You're our closest source of information to the Authority. That comes with a responsibility. If you ever find out that they're about to search the mill, you need to get here first and save Amethyst."

Connie was taken aback by the unpretentious sincerity of his request. "What... what do I have to do?" she asked.

"To start with, you'll need a key to get inside in the first place. PeeDee, would you kindly furnish our associate with your copy?"

PeeDee fished into a pocket and retrieved another key, which he handed over to Connie without reluctance. "It's not easy, but it is simple," he assured her. "You'd have to use this to let yourself into the room, and then use the knife to dissipate her form." He mimed a decisive stabbing motion.

Ronaldo elaborated: "Anywhere except on the gemstone. There'll be a loud noise and some smoke, so don't be startled. Then smuggle the gem out and find somewhere to hide it, like a small container. Or bring it to us, if it's safe."

Connie felt simultaneously anxious and queasy. "I don't know if I can do that to someone, with a knife. Does it hurt her?"

"It's a better option than getting caught."

Seeing Connie's discomfort, PeeDee intervened. "I don't think it does hurt. Not like it would for us, at least." He gave a sympathetic half-smile. "Ask her yourself, if you like." With that, he beckoned and the trio made their way downstairs toward the hidden room.


	14. Secret History

"Amethyst, it's us again," PeeDee announced as they crowded through the door in the windmill's basement. As the light of his lantern suffused the room, the shadowy figure of Amethyst became apparent, lying in her pile of straw.

"Ugh, what now?" she groaned, rolling over. "I was sleeping."

This was a surprise to Connie. "I didn't know gems could sleep."

Amethyst looked in the direction of Connie's voice. "You don't see much else to do down here, do you?" She inclined her head. "You visited me recently, right? It was you?"

"Yes, I did." Connie was pleased at the acknowledgement. "You, uh, didn't want to know my name?"

Amethyst pushed her legs vertically into the air before letting them fall to the floor as she pivoted into a sitting position. "Yeah, I guess that was kinda rude. You can tell me your name if you like, but don't get all offended if I forget it. I've known so many humans it's hard to keep track."

"My name's Connie. You must have... lost a lot of people, over all these years."

Amethyst sighed. "Did you ever have a pet, Connie?"

"Erm... no."

"Oh yeah, I guess that's not really a thing so much any more." The purple gem looked thoughtful. "Ever had an animal you grew fond of before the time came to devour its flesh?"

Connie considered this. "Again, no."

"Oh. Well, that was a bad example, so good. But it used to be that humans had enough food not only for themselves but to keep pet animals. They'd let the animals live with them, and they used to treat them just like part of the family until they'd die, and then the humans got sad. Until they got a new pet." With this established, Amethyst sat up and leaned forward on her hands. "So, being a gem among humans is a bit like that, only it's worse, because the humans are so much more like you than animals are, and you understand each other, and then they live such short lives that it gets hard to bear." She sighed. "In the end it's better not to think of humans as individuals. That's just how I cope."

Connie was overwhelmed with pity. "I think I understand. Thank you for explaining."

"Connie had some more questions about your civilisation," Ronaldo prompted.

"It's not my civilisation," Amethyst protested, "and anyone who calls me civilised is a liar."

Connie was anxious to get to the bottom of the Pink Diamond question, but wasn't sure how best to approach it, or even how much Amethyst really knew. "You told me last time I was here that some of the gems weren't happy about Pink Diamond. Do you know why that was?"

"Gems don't like change," Amethyst explained. "Pink Diamond was enforcing changes to the way they did things, and some gems had spent too many thousands of years working in one way to be able to switch things up without grousing a whole bunch. But I think..." — she paused to think — "I think they were mad because it was less efficient. That's another thing they're big on. They were complaining things were going to take too long."

An unusual complaint for such a long-lived people, Connie assumed. "What things?"

"The process of building and making gems on Earth. On Pink Diamond's orders, it was all happening on a completely different time scale."

It wasn't much, but it added some nuance to Connie's idea of the gem behind the official portraits. What did all this imply about Pink Diamond herself? She had come here from another world to carry out her project, but had then delayed it due to her love of humanity. Was there anything truly sinister about her interstellar origins, or did they make her dedication to life on Earth even more inspiring?

Connie turned her attention to PeeDee and Ronaldo. "What did you guys think when you found out the gems weren't from Earth?" she asked.

"It made a lot of things clear," Ronaldo said darkly. "The colonising force from beyond the stars. Condemning humanity's greed while coming here to seize our resources in the exact same manner. And once everything is gone, and who knows how soon that'll be, they'll return to the heavens and leave us to our doom."

A ball of tension was building up in Connie's core. "And what do you think of that, Amethyst? Is he right?"

The gem shrugged. "Could be? I dunno. Certainly makes a neat story."

"Well I don't agree," Connie declared emphatically, turning on Ronaldo. She felt as though her voice was about to break, but determined to stay composed. "You keep saying this but it still doesn't make any sense. We've seen the technology gems have, the vehicles and power. If they came to Earth to... to do what you said, they could have wiped us all out on day one. We know Pink Diamond went out of her way to protect us. You're not being fair."

"Let's not draw any conclusions," PeeDee said diplomatically. "You wanted to ask some other questions, right?"

Connie took a breath. "Right. Yes. So... I'm interested in when the gems formally brought humanity under their protection. What was your experience at the time?"

Amethyst had been gradually slouching into her straw, but perked up again and sat cross-legged. "Well, I spent a lot of time in my gem, I'll tell you that straight up. Back then I'd been living in a town in Europe with this family who'd always been nice to me. It wasn't too near any gem structures, so I could wander around outside, and I'd sometimes help out with chores and whatnot. My host was a historian, and he used to ask me stuff about the past to help him with his writing." Her faint smile faded. "So, one day he came running in. He told me that the gems were coming. An airship had landed in the centre of town and three gems had come out to announce that the people of that country had chosen to depose their king, and accepted the gems as rulers. Everyone was to come out and be counted, and await instructions of what to do next."

"What kind of gems were they?" Connie asked.

"I don't know for sure, but he said two of them were big and tough-looking, and the smaller one did the talking. As soon as he knew what was happening, the historian had come straight back to warn me. Everyone always knew I'd be in deep trouble if the gems ever found me, and he asked what he should do. So I explained about my hard-light form, and said he should stab through it with something and find a small container to put my gem in, and keep that with him and not let anyone else touch it. When it was safe, he could take the gem out so I could reform. He wasn't exactly thrilled about the plan, but he agreed to go along with it and poof! I was safe, for the time being at least."

She gave out a deep sigh. "I never met him again."

Connie was still trying to extrapolate from Amethyst's brief description to understand the practicalities of bringing humanity under gemkind's law. How many towns and cities were there to visit, and how many gems went to each one? Did it all happen at once, or in shifts? Did everyone listen to them? The minor detail of the new order being presented to the humans as a fait accompli was in retrospect so obvious, so necessary, that it didn't even register as controversial. By any cursory analysis, there was no way the Authority could realistically have conducted some kind of opinion survey on the entire population. The concept of humanity's co-authorship of its own destiny was merely a necessary allegory. In a way, Connie had always known this.

Amethyst continued her story. "I couldn't tell how much time was passing while I was in the box, but one day I found myself in open space and I was unable to resist reforming. I was greeted by a woman I didn't recognise, and she brought me up to date. We were in what the gems were calling a temporary settlement, which was a neighbourhood of one of the old human cities. Only, nobody knew where it actually was. Every few days, the gems would fly in and deliver food to everyone. Apart from that, they didn't really interfere. But they were around enough that I would have to stay hidden indoors."

"How much time had passed, if they didn't even know what city they were in?" Connie wondered.

"It was a few decades," Amethyst explained. "Everyone in the settlement had been relocated there from their old homes, and all the original signs had been taken down, so there was just no way of telling. It was somewhere with a warm climate. Anyway, this woman, Catherine, was the youngest person in the settlement. She had been born there shortly after the move. After that nobody else had any kids, so she'd grown up as the only child in a settlement of adults."

(Connie suppressed an urge to announce that she'd had the same experience growing up. Clearly she and this Catherine were kindred spirits separated by history, but she suspected Amethyst would not find this as interesting as she did.)

"This whole time, they'd had me tucked in this box. I don't know how they got it, because I asked about the historian and nobody there even knew him. But they somehow knew a little about me, and they'd brought me back because they had a question. See, nobody in this place was getting any younger, and some of the residents had already died of old age. My new friend was worried what would happen when she was the only one left. Obviously I didn't know anything about what was going on, but when they explained how everyone had these regulators that stopped them having children, I made what I think you'd call an educated guess. Seemed to me like the gems didn't figure out Catherine's mom was already pregnant when they moved everyone into this place, and the whole thing was a mistake. So I just told her, sit tight, one day they'll probably take you to a new home. And when they do, it'd be great if you'd bring me with you. From then on, I lived in the house with Catherine and her mom, and we would just relax and share stories."

"Were..." Connie chose her words carefully. "Were the people treated well?"

"Some of the humans used to grumble sometimes, but they were used to living in the settlement by the time I met any of them. Most of them didn't seem to mind that much. One thing they sometimes talked about was how before the gems came, they went hungry a lot. There'd been a lot of shortages toward the end, which maybe helped people see the Diamond Authority's intervention as a good thing. Apart from that, they had a big area of the city with parks and stuff, to roam around and make use of as they pleased. Kind of like here, they used to put on music shows and read and stuff. It was a big community, a few hundred in total. The funny thing was, there were humans from all over the world all living there in the same place, and they would still tend to separate out and hang around in their own original groups. They seemed content enough, though. The only real restriction was the wall round the edge of the settlement."

"Walls?" Connie exclaimed. "I wouldn't have been happy living in a... a prison!"

"Are you allowed to leave _this_ settlement?" PeeDee pointed out.

"Well, no, but..." Connie floundered. "There aren't any walls," she feebly concluded.

"I guess someone in charge was keeping track of things," Amethyst continued, "because after her mother passed away they informed Catherine they'd move her to another settlement with more people her own age. So I talked her through the same routine as before: poof, gem in the box, smuggled out with the luggage."

"Does it hurt when that happens?" Connie asked her.

"Eeh," Amethyst wavered with an ambivalent squint, "sort of? I not sure if gems and humans experience pain in the same way. It certainly doesn't feel good, but, you know. I've seen humans injured, in agony, screaming and crying like they didn't want to exist. That's not something I could compare it to."

Connie had never experienced anything like Amethyst's disturbing description either. "Um. When did you see that?"

"Saw all kinds of things before I went blind," Amethyst replied simply.

"That's all in the past, though," Ronaldo blustered. "Stick to the stuff that happened two hundred years ago. What did they do to humans who didn't cooperate?"

"You know I don't know that," Amethyst scowled. "I never met anyone at the temporary settlement that hadn't accepted the gems as leaders. Everyone always knew they were powerful, and humans had always had superstitions about them. Maybe in the cities it was a different story, but I never heard anything about it. And when we moved to the next settlement, it was all humans who'd been born afterwards, so nobody could have known anyway. When we arrived there, Catherine was the only one who knew anything much about life under the old system, and a lot of that was from having me to talk to."

"What was this new settlement like?" Connie asked.

"It was different. More like this place, but without so many facilities. But the people used to farm their own food instead of receiving rations — you'd recognise it if you lived there, these places have always been the same ever since. This new settlement was on another part of the planet, they took Catherine through a warp to get there. The weather was colder, but there was fresh water and she said the scenery was nice. I was introduced to some of the other residents who were excited to meet me. But there was trouble pretty soon after that."

Amethyst finally stood up from her patch of ground, stretched, and began pacing around the room in an agitated fashion. "The Zircon assigned to that settlement came to Catherine and started asking questions, like they knew she was hiding something. It really rattled her, and we agreed the best thing would be for me to stay with someone else and hope their Zircon would drop it."

Connie stepped to one side to avoid being bowled over by Amethyst. On her next pass, she tactfully offered Amethyst a seat, guiding the gem to her wooden stool. "Do you think someone told on you?" she asked.

Amethyst gripped the sides of the seat with rigid arms, but otherwise reduced her nervous energy. "Honestly? I don't know, but I'm guessing maybe not. I've had a lot of time to think about things, and lately I've been wondering whether it was the warp. If they could detect an unauthorised gem going through the warp, that would have led them straight to Catherine."

Connie came to the glum realisation that it would also make this settlement a dead-end. Surely anyone and anything leaving here would do so by means of the adjacent warp pad.

"The Zircon stayed suspicious for years, but I guess she couldn't do anything about it. Eventually a few people got letters saying they were going to be needed in different settlements, and they decided the best thing would be if I go with one of them and hope to shake off the Authority that way."

Connie watched Amethyst with sympathy. "So you had to leave another friend behind."

"Everywhere I went, it's always been the same. Well, not quite. About a century back I was living in a place where they somehow never tracked me down. Obviously I still had to stay hidden but at least I could relax for a bit. Anyway, it didn't last, because they eventually shut down the settlement and moved the last few residents on to new locations. A few stops later and here I am." She shrugged. "I can go into more detail if you need."

"It's fine," Connie assured her. "I don't want to go dredging up memories if they'll just make you sad."

Amethyst's blank eyes stared into the distance. "I've always wondered whether I'm the only one, or if there are other defective gems like me, still hiding from the Diamond Authority. Whether they've been able to last all this time without getting caught. I guess I'll never know."

Ronaldo left a respectful (but not quite long enough) pause before speaking. "Regretfully, it turns out we haven't bought much time. The Authority continues to assert its... uh, authority, and they've already started searching houses again."

Amethyst hung her head. "Aw, man. This whole time I've brought you nothing but trouble. I'm really sorry, guys."

"Don't blame yourself," Connie reassured her, "blame that Zircon. You're just as much a victim as us."

(This earned her an almost inaudible 'hmph' from PeeDee.)

"So we need a plan," Ronaldo pressed on. "A better hiding place, or a way out of the settlement, or... or whatever. Anything. There are no bad ideas, guys."

PeeDee rubbed his chin contemplatively. "We could, uh... bury her?"

Amethyst raised her hand. "You know how you just said there were no bad ideas? I'd like to officially disagree with that."

"I'm just thinking out l... it's a process," PeeDee stammered.

Ronaldo raised a finger oratorically. "Some say that the best way to conceal something is to hide it in plain sight."

Connie blinked. "So your suggestion is to hide Amethyst in plain sight?"

"Maybe." He folded his arms and leaned on the wall.

"Wouldn't people _see_ her?"

He awkwardly unfolded his arms. "I mean... of course it sounds obvious when you say it like that."

"No, wait, there could be something in it," PeeDee insisted. "Like, if Amethyst's gem was in a container of some kind. Maybe it's better _not_ to hide it. Anything hidden under the floor, in the attic or wherever — of course they're going to look inside straight away. But they might not bother searching everything that's just sitting out on a shelf."

"Yeesh," Amethyst winced. "Sounds like a heck of a gamble. What if they _do_ look?"

"Well," PeeDee said, "if they do, then... maybe we fight them."

It was Ronaldo's turn to look uncertain. "It's not yet time, PeeDee. We need to get the word of the Oracle out to more people."

Connie would have analysed this further, but a more pressing thought had struck her. "What if there was a way to heal Amethyst? Then she'd find it much easier to stay hidden."

"Well, yeah," Amethyst hesitantly acknowledged, "but the only way to do that is through the power of Pink Diamond. Kind of a tall order."

"Except," Connie countered, "haven't we all got a part of Pink Diamond's healing power with us? The organic regulator? Isn't there some way we could use that?"

"Well..." Ronaldo struggled with reluctance to concede this point. "I suppose it's _technically_ analogous, but..."

"Does anyone know how the regulators actually work?" Connie asked. "I never really think about mine."

"Must be some form of modified gemtech," Amethyst suggested, "adapted to interface with organic beings. Or something," she shrugged. "I guess Pink Diamond could have put some of her power into it, it's true."

"A part of Pink Diamond's power," Connie breathed. It was somehow a humbling thought, that such power could be flowing through her right now. "Can I try something?" she asked.

Carefully approaching Amethyst, she slowly reached out toward the damaged gemstone. Then, thinking again, she stopped. If the power was _inside_ her...

She hunched her shoulders self-consciously as she brought her hand to her mouth and licked her palm. Then, solemnly, she pressed the damp hand against Amethyst's gem. There was a reverent silence, and...

...absolutely nothing happened.

"Um..." Not knowing what to do, Connie briefly wiped the gem with the sleeve of her other arm, mumbled "sorry" and scampered back to her original position.

Amethyst was visibly confused. "Uh, what was that? Anyone?"

"Look," Ronaldo said charitably, "the main thing is that you're at least trying to help."

"I'm just impressed you thought nobody would ever have tried that before," PeeDee grinned.

("Seriously, what did I miss?")

"Fine," Connie managed through her embarrassment, "maybe it's not that simple, but I still think there's some merit to..."

"In the absence of any further contributions, we'll have to go with PeeDee's idea for now," Ronaldo announced. "We'd better prepare a container of some sort for Amethyst's gem. What would you find most comfortable?"

"It doesn't make any difference. I can't feel anything when I'm in there."

"Right, right, good, good. PeeDee and I will identify an ally who would be least likely to fall under suspicion. Since Connie will not know their identity, she will be unable to inadvertently incriminate them in the presence of her parents. If it becomes apparent that the gems are closing in, we will dematerialise Amethyst and hope for the best."

"Hooray," Amethyst sarcastically intoned.

"We should get back," said PeeDee. "It must be late." The dimly-lit room gave no sense of the passage of time, but he was probably right.

"One last thing," asked Connie. "Why did the gems really remove humanity's leaders? Do you have a theory?"

There was a silence. "You're asking me?" Amethyst realised. "I always assumed the humans were getting in the way, and Pink Diamond wanted to have them where she could keep an eye on them." She added after a pause, "You do know I've got no more insight into this than you, right?"

"It's as valid a theory as any," Connie wearily smiled, and she and the Fryman brothers made their way out to seal the gem back in her dark prison.

* * *

The three of them congregated briefly in the grist mill again, it being too cold and dark to comfortably stand outside.

"You really need to think about what the Oracle told you," Ronaldo instructed Connie. "I guess you've lived a sheltered life with your peacekeeper dad, but our oppression by the gems is ongoing. Any time we develop a sense of community, they split us up. They move us around until we lose our sense of history. We lose all knowledge of what they did to the people who resisted. And how about those temporary settlements? Did you ever hear of a settlement with so many people, in our lifetime? Did you ever hear of anybody living in a city? Look at the places we live in now! We've heard a lot about settlements being disbanded, but never new ones setting up." He emphasised his points with outstretched hands as he loomed over her. "How many of us are even left? How long before it's none at all!?"

"Here's another question for you," PeeDee cut in, much calmer than his brother. "Why is the library the only place here that's always kept locked?"

This felt like a rhetorical question, but there was a silence Connie felt compelled to fill. "I guess because the books are..."

"Because," PeeDee interrupted, "knowledge is the only thing you can take out of the settlement that they can't find by searching you."

Connie was at a loss. There was much that was questionable about the gems' actions over the last few centuries, but characterising them as purely malevolent still didn't make sense to her. People had been hungry, had suffered at each others' hands, and the Diamond Authority had put a stop to it. Her working theory was that a faction of mid-level gems had mismanaged the organisation of the settlements — either through neglect and a lack of familiarity with the concerns of humans, or deliberately out of resentment towards Pink Diamond. There seemed little point in discussing this with Ronaldo and PeeDee, as in the end none of them had the evidence to back up their opinions, Oracle or no Oracle. It would be better to focus on their mutual goals.

"I still think you were a bit quick to dismiss healing Am... the Oracle," she said. "It's the only thing that would get us out of this mess for good."

"Really, Connie," Ronaldo sighed, "I think if it was possible to fix her by means of some hocus-pocus with the organic regulator, somebody would have figured it out by this point."

"There must be other things we could try, though. I don't see a reason to give up so quickly."

"If you try and mess with that thing, you're only liable to end up hurting yourself. Even if it did work," Ronaldo continued, "I don't foresee a happy life for our friend were she to go free. You heard how often she got found out by her so-called comrades in times past. The next time she got damaged, I dare say she wouldn't be finding any sympathetic humans to take her in." He patted Connie on the shoulder, chuckling. "Lucky for her your magical hand isn't so magic."

"I feel silly," Connie mumbled. "For a moment I was really convinced that might work."

"Put it out of your mind. We need the Oracle as she is, as the mascot of our revolution. She's living proof that the gems are lying, and she's living proof that they can be defeated. We've sacrificed too much to lose her now."

Connie edged away from him. "So what's your ultimate goal here? Downstairs you were talking about fighting them. I can't see that going well."

"But we're out of other options!" PeeDee exclaimed with sudden intensity. "All throughout history we've convinced ourselves they can't be fought, and where has that got us? Stranded on the few scraps of land they'll still let us occupy! When the Oracle came into our possession, that was a sign. Ever since then, we've been working with those we can trust to get the message out, to tell the truth about the Diamond Authority. We spread the word, and when the time comes, the uprising will begin."

Connie had never seen PeeDee so animated, and it was decidedly unnerving. His eyes blazed with fanaticism. Not for the first time, she began wishing she wasn't in a room with the Frymans. "But if what you've been saying is true, and there really are so few of us left..." She trailed off under PeeDee's glare.

"We're the violent ones, right? We're the ones that are supposed to be so dangerous. One of us is worth a dozen of them, now we know how to neutralise them. You should seriously be considering whose side you're really on."

Connie forced herself to remain calm. "I want," she said, "what's best for everyone in this settlement." _Amethyst included,_ she thought.

"They think they can suppress the truth," Ronaldo scoffed. "Their final mistake will be underestimating our resilience. There are others like us, in settlements previously graced by the Oracle. Whenever they remove us from our homes, thinking to stifle dissent, they inadvertently help spread our message further."

"I'm **glad** they took Mom," PeeDee spat. "Knowing she's out there, bringing the truth to yet another settlement's worth of people, only strengthens our determination. We all miss her, but **these** are the sacrifices that must be made."

Connie froze as the full implications of what PeeDee was saying sank in. "You mean, the peacekeeper was..." She stared at them, aghast. "They split up your family!?"

Ronaldo turned to her, shadows hiding his eyes. "You see at last the cruelty and indifference of the Authority. You see why they must be defeated."

Connie composed herself, carefully observing the obstinate brothers. "This has given me a lot to think about," she said, her voice neutral. "I remain committed to protecting the Oracle at any cost. Now it is late, and I should go home before my parents realise I've snuck up here."

The dangerous energy in the room suddenly dissipated. PeeDee's defiance faded and he seemed somehow pitiable. Ronaldo merely nodded. "Very well. The two of us will stay here a while longer. We'll contact you again soon."

* * *

A tumult of conflicting thoughts and emotions ran through Connie's head as she picked her way back down the hill. It was now very much dark, and the moonlight barely revealed the contours of the ground in front of her. She felt her way carefully and focused on the vestiges of light spilling from the distant windows of the settlement.

Sheer fantasy. Ronaldo and PeeDee were living in a fantasy world, and a dangerous one at that. To have convinced themselves they could fight the Diamond Authority, precisely the hand that fed them, was utter folly. Furthermore, it was a folly that had cost them so dearly they no longer had any choice but to cling to it.

Connie had somehow never thought to wonder where the boys' mother was. She supposed that, if challenged, she might have assumed Mr Fryman was a widower. But the truth of it went some way to explaining why the peacekeeper had been so sympathetic to their cause, to the extent of risking her own position. A risk which clearly had not paid off. Connie wondered whether Mrs Fryman had originated this nonsense about taking on the Diamond Authority, or whether the boys had fallen into it as a way of justifying their loss. She felt sorry for them.

On the other hand, despite knowing what had happened to their mom, they had still encouraged her to find out whether her dad might be prepared to defy the gems too. How could she trust them when they hadn't even warned her? The thought of her own family being split up made her feel sick. Surely that Zircon must have been exceeding her authority, to take such measures? Connie briefly wondered whether it had been the same Zircon all along, pursuing a vendetta against Amethyst. But that wouldn't explain the overarching patterns in the way the gems had organised human settlements over the years. The Oracle had given her too much information to parse, and at the same time not enough information to draw certain conclusions.

Poor Amethyst was a pawn in this whole thing. It seemed more and more like the gem was being treated as a kind of trophy. The boys were happy to keep her locked away and discuss only how she might further their own agenda. Connie wondered how many custodians Amethyst had had over the centuries. Did they all truly care about protecting her, or did it merely make people feel good to turn the tables on the gems, by keeping one of their own in captivity? By holding power over a being so powerful?

For all their supposed revolutionary credentials, it seemed Ronaldo and PeeDee were slaves to tradition just like the kids at Mr Pita's. They all asked for opinions, then summarily rejected anything that didn't match their own worldview. Even when doing what people had always done was doomed to end in failure, everyone was scared to try something new. For each novel idea there was an evasion or an excuse, and people would forever muddle along the well-trodden path. Maybe this was what came of spending your whole life in one settlement?

For her part, Connie was determined to revisit her idea of freeing Amethyst, with or without anyone else's help.


	15. The Sentry's Insight

Over breakfast, Connie dared to broach a potentially controversial topic of conversation. "Is it true that the last peacekeeper was evicted from the settlement?" Her parents exchanged wide-eyed glances before turning their stares on Connie. "Some of the other kids mentioned it," she added vaguely.

Mrs Maheshwaran briefly narrowed her eyes. When Connie had returned home from the windmill after dark, her mom had briefly interrogated her as to where she had been. Connie's explanation that she had simply lost track of time was accepted at face value, but she had the impression that this was only because her mother had other things on her mind at the time. Now, she had to be careful not to say anything which could implicate PeeDee or Ronaldo.

"I wouldn't pay too much heed to what those children say," Priyanka advised. "I doubt they know the whole story."

"But if it happened before we got here," Connie insisted, "anything they do know about it is going to be more than I know... about it." She trailed off, suddenly losing confidence. "I don't know anything," she mumbled.

"You're forgetting your father's and my positions in relation to the civic administration. We are completely up to date on the situation. Believe me, anyone who's been moved on from this settlement recently has been up to no good, and left the gems with no other option."

Connie looked to her father. "Does this happen a lot? I can't remember you ever mentioning anything like it."

"There's a... unique situation in this settlement," Doug sighed. "I can't really go into it."

Connie spread some more preserve on her piece of bread and took another bite. They ate in silence for a few moments.

"It's just a shame," Connie continued, "because it seems as if some people in the settlement have gotten a bit jumpy. I guess when people don't have the full story, their imaginations start running wild."

"Connie," Priyanka interrupted, "it would be a big help if you could prepare your own lunch today."

Connie took the hint and crammed the remaining crust of bread into her mouth as she made her way to the pantry.

* * *

On her way to the education centre, Connie was poised on the lookout for any sign of Zircon or her flunkies. As it turned out, though, the next gem she saw was another Amethyst.

After a quiet morning's lessons, she had agreed to stay with Mrs Lezner for some pianoforte practice over lunch. The teacher sat to one side as Connie completed the piece she had been learning.

"You're doing well, Connie," Mrs Lezner told her once she had finished. "But you need to commit yourself to the music. Whenever you hesitate because you're worried about playing the wrong note, that throws off the rhythm of the song. Trust your instincts and don't be afraid of making mistakes."

Connie nodded silently. It was good advice in that it was accurate, but bad in that it forced her to confront the possibility of an underlying flaw in her character.

Before she could dwell on this further, there was a heavy knock at the door, which was then unceremoniously barrelled open without waiting for a response. "Got a present for you folks," the Amethyst called out, brandishing a book.

Connie instinctively looked away for fear of being recognised and giving the game away — a fear which she immediately realised was nonsensical on at least two levels. She looked up again and regarded the Amethyst, wondering if it could be the same one who had escorted them to the settlement all those weeks ago. Probably not, she decided.

"A new book of music?" Mrs Lezner stood up to receive the delivery from the gem. "How wonderful. It seems so soon since the last one. Thank you, Amethyst."

"Eh, no problem, chief," the Amethyst grinned. "I'm delivering these to a whole bunch of settlements today."

"Do you happen to know whether they might send anyone to tune the pianoforte? It's been such a long time and the lower octaves have become rather dissonant."

The Amethyst was dubious. "It's not really my department, you're pro'lly best asking your civic leader. I mean, I can try and ask about it..."

Mrs Lezner bowed her head. "Please don't put yourself to any undue trouble."

"Right, enjoy!" The gem made her exit, slamming the door as forcefully as she had opened it. There was a muffled thud as she presumably applied the same treatment to the main door of the building.

Mrs Lezner turned the book over in her hands and examined it. The text on the front read _Sonatas 211-220_. "Oh, dear," she mused. "I wonder if they're as difficult as the last lot." She set up the book on the music stand and opened it to the first piece. "I'm always careful to be polite when they bring us these, but quite frankly I've never been able to get the knack of them. The woman who taught me how to play, she was a natural talent, but I was never at the same level."

Connie peered at the staves. "It keeps changing key _and_ time signature," she observed. Cautiously, she picked out the first few notes with her right hand. With some correction from Mrs Lezner, she rote-learned the sequence of the first page, replete with triplets and sudden jumps in octave. "Can you tap out the rhythm?" she asked Mrs Lezner.

With the convoluted time signatures in place, a deceptively simple melody began to emerge from the chaos. "Start again," Mrs Lezner told her, "and I'll try playing the left hand." It was a repeating sequence of four arpeggios, one of which sounded totally at odds with the others and caused several false starts. However, with some trial and error they got through the first page, and the bass notes began to complement the treble in an elegant call-and-response.

Connie exhaled, simultaneously impressed and exasperated. "How can they make something so simple into something so complicated? Or... or the other way round?"

"It's very clever," Mrs Lezner agreed. "Perhaps we should practice some more of it next time. It could be manageable as a duet."

Connie picked up the book and flipped through its pages. "Are these songs composed by Pink Diamond?" she asked, indicating the title page.

"I don't think so. It only says that Pink Diamond was the patron. So that means it couldn't have been written without her, but not that she herself wrote it."

The sound of the classroom door opening brought home a realisation that the lunch break had been going on for an unusually long time. PeeDee and a couple of other kids hesitantly entered the room.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs Lezner asked. "Where are the others?"

"There's a bit of a commotion going on outside," PeeDee explained. "Some gems have gone into Onion's house, and nobody's sure where he is."

"Good heavens." Mrs Lezner stood up, disquieted. "Well, we should carry on as normal. I mean, we should carry on as if... but I don't have my class," she trailed off, murmuring to herself. Pulling herself together, she addressed Connie. "Please, go with the others and make sure everybody stays out of trouble. If they can't make it back here, they should go home and sit tight."

Outside the building, the other kids ran ahead as Connie turned to PeeDee, exasperated. "They raided Onion's house and you didn't tell me!?"

"I did," PeeDee pointed out, "just now."

This was a valid point and took some of the wind out of Connie's sails. "Well, if I'd known sooner maybe I could have done something. We should find Onion, at least. Do you think he's all right? Would they find anything to incriminate him?"

"I don't think so, but who knows with that kid."

The majority of people they saw on their way through the settlement were pointedly minding their own business, but there were a few curious souls lingering in the streets adjacent to Connie's home. Some of them stared at Connie in a manner that was not entirely friendly. PeeDee led her past them to where some of the other kids were stationed by the street corner.

"They came back out of the house," one of the girls explained. "Onion's mom turned up and was just staring at them, but the gems just left and then she went inside."

"So the gems have gone?" PeeDee asked.

"No, they went up the street to Connie's house."

"WHAT?" Connie exclaimed.

"They're probably talking with your dad," PeeDee pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose so." She looked at the houses in whose shelter they were standing. "If we cut through the allotments of these houses, we might be able to see."

Carefully, the group traipsed between houses until they were close enough to Connie's house to have a decent view without too much risk of being spotted.

PeeDee peered out. "I see one of those Jaspers. She's outside the front door."

Connie took a look for herself. A tall, broad gem was indeed blocking the main entrance to the house. "There are two, right? I bet the other one's round the back."

"Top secret stuff," PeeDee agreed. "You should try and get in."

Connie wheeled round. "What!?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you could find out what happened in Onion's house."

A quiet debate broke out amongst the other students. "No way will they let her in." "They might!" "I dare you!" "Connie's not one of them." "Says who?" "Double dare you!"

"All right," Connie said, holding a hand up to silence them. "Fine, I'll go." She glared at PeeDee, but he was looking across the road again.

There was the slimmest of chances that she might be able to learn something. But in the moment, it seemed more important to be seen _not_ being allowed in. It would help dispel any suspicions her classmates had of her being somehow complicit in what had happened.

She edged out from her hiding spot, and walked slowly across the road and toward her house. Already the Jasper was glowering at Connie with a forbidding stare, and she had to ignore her own instincts in order to continue. As she set foot on her front path, the orange gem folded her arms menacingly. Connie slowed her already-glacial pace as she concluded her inexorable approach.

Before Connie could say anything, the Jasper loomed dangerously over her. "Get outta here, squirt."

Connie inwardly cursed the other children for putting her in this situation. "What's going on?" she asked, staring somewhere to the right of the Jasper for fear of making eye contact.

"None of your business. Nobody goes in until our work is finished."

Reluctantly, Connie protested. "But... I live here."

The burly gem leaned down on Connie until they were almost nose-to-nose. "You live here," she said, "because we _let_ you live here. And right now, we're **not** letting you live here. So for the **_final_** time: get outta here. **SCRAM.**"

Connie backed away with as much dignity as she could muster, and shuffled rapidly back to the other kids. "It's, uh, it's not happening," she told PeeDee, a quaver in her voice. "We should leave. I'm going for a walk."

"But we don't know what's going on," PeeDee objected.

"Going for a walk," Connie abruptly repeated as she strode off.

Her heart was racing. After she had gained some distance from the house, she managed to slow her pace to merely brisk. The intimidation she had felt was gradually being supplanted by a quiet rage.

How could that gem speak to her like that? When she wasn't even doing anything wrong? Until today, Connie had never met a gem who didn't treat her with basic common courtesy. But that Jasper had spoken to her as if she was nothing, a serf. The whole point of being ruled by the Diamond Authority should have been that unlike the old human leaders, nobody would abuse their power. And yet here was living proof that elements of the Authority saw humanity as nothing more than a nuisance.

She gritted her teeth. The entitlement! The sheer arrogance!

She had arrived back at the education centre. Mastering her emotions, she made her way back to the classroom, which was still deserted apart from the teacher, who was still studying the new music book.

"Mrs Lezner? I don't think the other students are coming back today. I was wondering if I could spend some time in the library?"

"That's fine," Mrs Lezner said, distracted. "Here, take my key." Connie accepted the proffered key, and upon letting herself in to the library, surreptitiously locked the door behind her.

The typesetting machine sat in the corner, its levers beckoning her. She looked up at the stack of blank paper on the shelf. Would they miss a sheet?

Perhaps it would be best not to make things worse by stealing. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the folded scrap of wallpaper she was still carrying. Smoothing the paper out to the best of her ability, she carefully fed it into the machine. Next, it was time to figure out how the device worked. Repeatedly pressing the letter buttons made one of the wheels rotate, but nothing else seemed to happen. After pressing the 'D' button enough times, the wheel came to a halt. So if that meant she had successfully selected the letter D, how did she type the next letter? Furthermore, why had it started in the middle of a row?

Some further investigation revealed a slider which allowed the user to select each wheel in turn. Starting again, she moved the slider to the leftmost wheel and began choosing letters. The whole process was rather more cumbersome than she would have liked. Between each word it was necessary to select a blank spot on the wheel, and she quickly realised she would have to do the same thing for every left-over wheel at the end of the line.

Finally, she gave an experimental tug on the largest lever. The row of wheels moved down slightly. Pulling the lever down hard, she pressed the wheels down onto the paper. Then she slid the paper up to examine her handiwork.

Nothing. It was still blank.

Baffled, she pulled the paper back out of the machine, and realised her mistake. Instead of the wheels themselves inking the paper, they pushed the paper down and inked it on the other side. Having not understood this, she had marked the patterned side of the wallpaper. Consequently, the text was also in reverse. She was going to have to start the whole thing again from scratch, this time starting from the right. Compounding her mistakes, she had also pulled the lever too hard and the ink had spread into illegible blobs.

"Who designed this thing?" she muttered, frustrated. This was taking a lot more time than she had expected, and it would be best to leave soon before anybody wondered what she was doing.

Trying to meld speed and precision, she re-loaded the paper the right way round, and began again. Fortunately, the printing procedure didn't take as long now that she had almost figured it out. She pulled the main lever, less vigorously this time, and let the paper sit for a few moments in case the ink was still wet.

Now, gingerly, she pulled the paper loose and flipped it over. There, in mercifully clear letters, were the words:

'DEAR PINK DIAMOND,'

It was a start. After verifying it was dry, she folded the paper up and put it away.

After a moment's thought, she returned to the machine and manually spun all of the letter wheels until they were all jumbled up.

* * *

Mrs Lezner was still playing snippets of music when Connie emerged. "It looks like the 216th sonata is the same as the 215th, only played in reverse. I've an idea there's a name for that."

"Here," said Connie, holding out the key. "I'm guessing none of the others came back?"

Mrs Lezner glanced at the light coming through the windows. "It appears not. Still, quite fortuitous timing when it's allowed me to take a proper look at this new book." She turned back to the pianoforte. "Just imagine, being able to create something so beautiful it becomes known in every settlement."

"I expect they're all worried about Onion," Connie continued, flatly.

Mrs Lezner let out a quiet sigh, staring at the keyboard before turning her head to face Connie. "Worrying does nobody any good," she said. "We've been granted the gift of not needing to worry about the future. Everything is planned out. I can see I'm going to have to plan a lesson about focusing on what you do in the present."

Connie brandished the key. Mrs Lezner accepted it, returning it to a pocket.

"I've lived here for about five years with no trouble whatsoever. I believe trouble has a way of finding people who go looking for it."

Connie didn't feel like continuing the discussion. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs Lezner."

"Good evening, Connie."

* * *

The shadows were elongating as Connie walked home, and she dared to take a brief detour to walk by Onion's house. She found Vidalia sitting out on the front path in what looked to be an indoor chair.

"Connie," Vidalia waved her over.

Connie meekly approached. "Good evening. Is... everything all right? I've not seen Onion."

Vidalia smiled enigmatically. "Onion's out playing with his friends. Everything's fine."

"Oh." Connie gave a weak grin, unsure whether to acknowledge the invasion of their privacy that had taken place. "Well, that's good to hear. Thanks for letting me know."

"Connie." Vidalia looked unusually serious.

"...Yes?"

"You've seen my Pink Diamond painting, haven't you?"

Connie had forgotten all about the questionable portrait. She floundered, caught off guard. Had Onion told on her? How could he even have known? He'd been downstairs while she looked around the studio. But she'd surely already given herself away by her expression, so there was no longer any point denying it. "Um... yes."

Vidalia's expression softened. "But you didn't mention it to anybody, did you?"

"No." Connie paused, and shook her head vigorously. "No, of course not."

"I know," Vidalia nodded. "That's how I know you had nothing to do with this. And I know you've been a good friend to Onion." She looked serious again. "Just bear in mind, not everyone in the settlement might see things that way. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that."

There was a silence as Connie processed what Vidalia was telling her.

So the gems had gone through the house, but because they were searching for Amethyst, they hadn't even looked at Vidalia's paintings. Whereas if they'd seen that sinister Pink Diamond, there might have been severe consequences. (Would there have been? Connie was still unsure, but clearly Vidalia thought so.)

Connie felt doubly guilty. Firstly, because with so much going on she had forgotten about this painting and the danger it might pose. And secondly, with the realisation that if she had thought about it, she would probably have given the terrible advice of hiding the portrait. This would have all but guaranteed its being uncovered. Perhaps PeeDee had a point after all about hiding things in plain sight.

By however convoluted and unintentional a route, she was glad to have earned Vidalia's trust. But there was still a missing piece to the puzzle. "How did you know?" she asked.

Vidalia smirked. "You gave yourself away. Imitation is itself a kind of flattery, after all." Without saying anything more, she rose from her chair and carried it back into the house, leaving Connie none the wiser.

* * *

Connie proceeded cautiously down the street, but as she approached her own house it became clear that the gems had departed. There was still an impression of the Jasper's large, flat feet in the soil near the door. It took discipline to stand still for so long. Perhaps an hour didn't seem like a long time when you were hundreds of years old.

She found her dad in the kitchen, eating an apple. He sheepishly greeted her. "I was just having a snack. Why don't you join me?"

Connie unwrapped another apple and leaned against the counter. "We had a new music book delivered at the education centre today," she said, purposely avoiding the more obvious topic.

"I wish I could have learned a classical instrument at your age. I was in a tiny settlement without many opportunities like that. I think they had a marimba, but it had lost a lot of its notes in a freak weather event."

"Sounds like quite the tragedy," Connie suggested through a mouthful of apple.

"It's worth persisting with music, because it'll give you a point of common ground with gems."

Doug stared thoughtfully at the floor for a few moments. The silence between them felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier," he said, "about relocations, and about... people, being upset when they don't know the reasons behind stuff happening."

Connie said nothing. Her dad refrained from meeting her stare.

"I just want you to know," he continued, "if there's anything that's bothering you, you can always ask me, and I'll answer as best I can."

Connie nodded cautiously. "Thanks."

Her dad smiled. "It was a big change moving here, wasn't it?" he said with forced conviviality. "But it's turned out to be a nice place to live. Changes can be for the best."

"Well," Connie said, "P5T7 was a nice place to live, but now I can see there wasn't much going on there. It can be good if you're moving from somewhere like that, but when you already live in a larger settlement like here, I don't think relocation is ever going to be an attractive prospect. Don't you think you'd worry about ending up in some little row of houses that only grows turnips?"

Doug paused before responding. "I've lived in quite a few settlements over the years, and they all have their own unique charms."

"I'm sure they do," Connie said with a dismissive gesture. "Wouldn't it be nicer to have the choice, though? This is all new to me, and it's kind of made me think about stuff. It makes you feel like you don't have control over your own life."

"How so?" Her dad eyed her curiously.

"Look at it this way. We can all do whatever we want within the settlement. As long as we're not hurting anybody," she appended out of deference to her father's profession. "Growing up, it never occurred to me that there were any real restrictions on my freedom. Then one day we get that letter, and surprise! You don't even get to choose where you live. Do the gems understand how big a change that is for humans, to leave everything and everybody behind? I mean..." — she hesitated, collecting her thoughts — "...we're all different from each other. We don't fit into identical types like them. Do they understand, that it's not the same to go and live with a different set of humans?"

"I think you should give them a little more credit than that. They've obviously been around humans for long enough to understand the difference."

Connie shrugged. "I just hope it isn't something they take lightly. Now that I understand you can be called upon to relocate at any time, it's so much harder to feel... settled."

"The gems who oversee the settlements are masters of organisation. They don't move anyone without a good reason, even if we might not see it."

"Then why not tell people? I bet Yellowtail would love to know what he's doing here." Since Onion's family were by now exonerated, there wasn't much risk in bringing them up as an example.

Doug considered this. "There's never been any mystery when I've moved settlements, because it's always been to do with my work. I suppose I can only speak for myself." He paused. "You think this is causing unrest among the people here?"

"I don't know about any 'unrest'," Connie blurted, before deciding this was too evasive. "Well, I know something is going on around here — I'm not stupid, and you can hardly miss those Jaspers stomping around. I get why you can't really tell me any details. But I know there are people who haven't done anything wrong, who feel like the gems are being unfair. That's all I can say."

Her father looked at her, thoughtful. "It's tricky," he said.

It wasn't clear whether he was about to add anything further, and the point became moot when the front door opened as Mrs Maheshwaran returned home. By unspoken consensus, the discussion was at an end.

Priyanka strode into the kitchen and looked at them expectantly. "Good evening, both of you. How was your day?"

This was addressed at her husband. "Unproductive," he responded simply.

"Oh. Well, never mind. Connie, how was your day?"

"Kind of strange," Connie said. "The day's lessons were disrupted. A lot of kids didn't come back for the afternoon because they thought Onion was in trouble."

"I see." Her mom seemed genuinely interested. "Which children didn't come back?"

"Well... basically everyone. The day just ended early."

Priyanka's brow furrowed. "Well, that's a pity. I have to say that it doesn't reflect well on Mrs Lezner's ability to command discipline."

"Hey," Mr Maheshwaran piped up, "I'm going to the drawing room rather than stand around here all day. Anybody joining me?"

The three of them adjourned to sit for a while, and indulged in some word games to pass a little time before dinner. Connie's mom nominated a word ('abandoned') and they came up with as many words as they could think of that could be made up from its letters.

When this became tiresome, they played a couple of rounds of Game-of-Twenty. Doug had them confounded at first with his selection — a creature that walks on two legs, cannot fly, but isn't a human, gem or chicken. Connie sensed a trick, and with her next question asked whether the animal had once been able to fly. Her dad answered in the affirmative.

"Is it an injured bird?" she asked on her next go.

"Correct," he nodded with a smug grin.

"That's a bit devious," Connie complained.

"Not devious enough, apparently. Come on, your turn. Do you have an idea ready?"

Connie nodded.

"Very well. Is it animal, vegetable or object?"

"Object."

It was Priyanka's turn to ask. "Is it a naturally-occurring object, or artificially made?"

"Artificially made."

Connie's dad pondered his approach. "Is it bigger or smaller than... uh, a doorway?"

"Smaller," Connie confirmed.

"Is it some kind of tool?" her mom asked.

Connie considered this. "Yes," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"Right," Doug said with resolve. "So... is it used in the field... no, wait. Is is used in the production of food?"

"No," Connie shook her head. It had been a well-formulated question — her dad had a knack for closing off as large an avenue of enquiry as possible.

"Is it used in manufacturing?"

"Not that either," Connie told her mother.

"Hmm." Doug studied Connie's face, as if trying to read the answer in her expression. "Is it a tool used by humans?"

"Yes."

"Is it small enough to carry in one hand?" Priyanka asked, gesturing with her palm up.

"Erm... yes? At least, I think so." This could be the turning point in the game. An uncertain reply often revealed more information than an unambiguous one.

Indeed, her dad by now wore a complacent smile. "Is it _made_ by humans?" he asked.

"...No," Connie admitted.

"Ah," her mom realised, "so it's made by gems? Wait, that's not my question. So..." She smiled. "I think I see it, but I'll ask. Do _you_ possess this object?"

Connie smiled sheepishly. "Yes."

"Is it an organic regulator?"

"Yes," Connie laughed, nodding. "Well done, dad."

"I think your mom was there really," he chuckled, raising his hands in a gesture of humility.

"I make that eleven questions," Priyanka announced. "Not bad, Connie, although I don't know whether I'd call it a tool exactly."

"Maybe, but I don't know what else to call it." Connie added, as casually as possible, "I'm just glad you didn't ask what shape it is, or where it's kept, or something like that."

"Yeah," Doug nodded, "the game kind of falls apart if a player can't come up with answers to the questions. Come to think of it, what's the house rule for that? Do you get an extra question?" He stood up. "Well, it's irrelevant in this case. Good game. I'm going to go and put some dinner together."

Left alone with her mom, Connie continued her theme before any new topic of conversation could be introduced. "Do you know where it actually is? The regulator, I mean? Did they put it in when I was born?"

Priyanka showed no suspicion at the line of questioning, but her response wasn't particularly helpful. "They did, but I've no idea how they do it. I was unconscious at the time."

"Oh? Uh, was everything all right?"

"I believe it's standard procedure. In the days before your birth I was taken to a gem facility where the procedure could be supervised. It's safer for the mother and baby, regulator or not. When the time came, they put me to sleep, and when I woke up, there you were." She smiled fondly.

"Were there other mothers there?" Connie asked, interested.

"Not that I saw, but they may have been in other rooms. I was comfortable there for a day or so, but it was nice to come back home and be a family."

"So," Connie persisted, "we don't really know how organic regulators are fitted?"

"Well, I assume they put it somewhere in the torso. I'm no great authority on anatomy, but there's scarcely room in a person's skull for extra machinery. And they'd know better than to put it in an arm or leg — if there's a terrible accident and you lose the limb, how could it help you then?"

Connie shuddered. "Would it... reattach the limb?"

Priyanka shook her head adamantly. "Your regulator can protect you, but it can't work miracles. That's why you must always be careful around sharp tools or farming equipment. Haven't you seen Samuel's eyepatch?"

"Of course," Connie realised. "How _does_ it work, then?"

Her mom assumed a teacherly attitude. "The organic regulator is a marvel of gem technology. Of course we can gain no real understanding of the principles by which it functions, but the simple version is that it acts as a conduit for Pink Diamond's power. She has the ability to heal all wounds purely by virtue of her presence. Somehow, a portion of this power is conveyed through each regulator, and adapted to the user's own bodily humours."

"Her power must be truly immense," Connie said earnestly, "to have enough for every human."

Her mom smiled. "Enough power and enough love to keep humanity safe forever. Now, let's see whether your dad needs any help with dinner."

* * *

They enjoyed a humble broth of peas, herbs and celery root, and for dessert finished the remaining bread with some honey. Throughout the evening, the subject of Vidalia's house was conspicuously avoided, and Connie thought it best to follow suit and not broach the topic. Once the washing up was completed, she excused herself to her room to do some thinking.

Her conversation with her mother hadn't been as illuminating as she might have hoped, but it wasn't a total loss. She'd learned at least a couple of things about the organic regulator. For one thing, it was probably located somewhere inside her torso. Reasoning things out further, it had to be fairly small — much smaller than a baby, given the circumstances of its installation. She prodded tentatively at her stomach, as if to find some synthetic lump.

"This is silly," she muttered. It was, she had to admit, an absurd line of enquiry. What exactly was she going to do — cut herself open, like some mad barber-surgeon of old? Even if she could locate the device, she'd scarcely be in a fit state to use it to help Amethyst. Worse, without the regulator's presence she would be in grave danger. Even with its protection, such an act of folly could be beyond its capacity to heal. She had to find another way.

Still... it could be worthwhile looking for some information on anatomy. Just in case.


	16. Extracurricular Studies

Over the next few days, events in the settlement continued to develop. Several more houses were searched by the gems, many of them the homes of Connie's classmates or other students in the senior grade. Connie found this was having an adverse effect on her social standing as more of the other kids became openly suspicious of her, with some refusing to speak to her at all.

Worse, Connie worried that their perception wasn't wholly unjustified. After all, she had been the one who blithely confirmed to her mother that everyone in her class had taken a keen interest in the investigation on Onion. Sure, Mrs Maheshwaran could just as easily have learned this information from Mrs Lezner, but the fact remained that it had been Connie. Was it so far-fetched that her mother's prejudices against various students was informing her father's investigation, when they clearly had so little other information to work with? Both Lars and Onion had reputations as troublemakers in the classroom, and they had been the first ones to fall under scrutiny.

In a break between lessons, she thought it best to bring this up with PeeDee.

"You should tell Ronaldo not to take too obvious an interest in what's going on," she told him. "Not while he's in my mom's class."

"Of course he won't," PeeDee scoffed, "he's not stupid." He glanced toward the education centre and Connie caught a hint of uncertainty in his expression.

"I'm not saying he's stupid," she insisted. "It's only that he can be a bit... enthusiastic, sometimes."

PeeDee assured her he would mention it to Ronaldo, and the subject was dropped.

* * *

Whenever possible, Connie would contrive ways to spend some time in the library at lunchtime or at the end of class, to work on composing her letter to Pink Diamond. Even if there was no clear way of sending such a missive, it was helping her to clarify some of her thoughts on what she had learned.

After her initial awkward session with the typesetting machine, she was managing to get to grips with some of its functions. For one thing, she had figured out how to print in lower case. Upon selecting a letter, a button could be pushed to increment its wheel by half a space, where the lower-case letter was situated between two capitals and otherwise unattainable. A smaller lever on one side of the device seemed to be related to this function, semi-incrementing all of the wheels at once, but Connie didn't trust the lever or herself enough to try using it in practice, as it seemed it would also convert her existing capitals to the wrong letters, not to mention what might happen to the spaces.

Technical difficulties aside, she thought about what she would like to ask Pink Diamond. There was the problem of growing enough food, and the closing down of settlements. On top of this, there was the question of people's lack of freedom to choose their own homes. And of course, the looming issue she couldn't even discuss with her own parents: the mistreatment of Amethyst, and gems like her.

Underpinning all of these questions, she had come to realise, was the most crucial one of all. Did Pink Diamond herself know about these problems, or were they somehow being concealed from her? And if she did know, then what did that mean? Was she somehow unable to help? Or unwilling?

While in the library, Connie also took the opportunity to teach herself some biology. She managed to find a page about organs in the science dictionary, but it only featured reams of text about some mythic wind-powered pianoforte. After racking her internal thesaurus, she instead looked under V for viscera. This was a little more useful, and enumerated some parts she was familiar with (heart, lungs) along with some she wasn't (what exactly was a spleen?)

_I never realised how many organs are in the first half of the alphabet,_ she thought. It was such a pain having to work with only half a dictionary. Connie made a mental note to try the complementary volume at home when she got the chance.

At least there was a chance to unravel the mysteries of the spleen. She turned to the relevant page.

In some ways it was encouraging. According to the book, there had been some debate amongst human scientists as to the actual function of this organ, or whether it in fact served any function at all. There was a certain kind of sense to their arguments — there were two lungs and two kidneys, so an organ might well form purely for the sake of symmetry. The implications of this bore consideration. If there was indeed some redundancy in the arrangement of the human body, perhaps an attempt to locate the organic regulator might not be quite so dangerous as she had initially thought — in theory, at least. In practice, her own sense of self-preservation still had a lot to say on the matter. She flipped further through the S section, hopeful of some information on safe medical procedures.

_SURGERY: see CHIRURGERY._

"Oh, _come on_," Connie said out loud.

* * *

If there were other tomes of knowledge located within the settlement, it was going to be difficult to ask about them without raising suspicion. Connie didn't feel comfortable about asking her parents, as they were too close to the investigation and might start making inferences from her sudden curiosity. She had already been fobbed off by Mrs Lezner after a similar enquiry.

Connie's mind then turned to the civic hall. Mr Dewey wasn't involved in the search for Amethyst, and he had written that play, so he must be reasonably well-read. Connie decided it couldn't hurt to go and ask, if she was subtle about it. After school, she made her way across to the square.

Unlike the glorified shack at Connie's old home, the civic hall in settlement B1C7 was an imposing structure, two storeys high and adorned with its impressive clock. Connie had always imagined the interior to be a hive of bureaucratic activity, but when she entered the building she merely found Barbara Miller, slouching at a desk and looking bored.

"Oh! Well hey, Connie," Barbara exclaimed, sitting up straight. The room was surrounded by wood panelling whose design made it difficult to tell which parts were doors. Behind, a staircase rose on the right and curved around out of view. Barbara smiled genially from behind her desk. "I can't believe it's already so long since you moved here. How are you all getting on?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs Miller," Connie politely replied. "We're doing fine, thank you. Well, I'm sure you already know from my parents."

"Sure, but it's good to hear it from you too. What can I do for ya?" Barbara smiled again, not concealing her slight puzzlement at Connie's presence.

Connie brought a hand up and agitated briefly at her own collar. "It's silly really, but I was looking for a book and it's not in the library... I wondered whether you kept any information on what books are in the settlement? Or would I just need to keep asking around?"

"Hah, funny you should ask that." Barbara leaned back in her chair. "But no, it's not something we formally keep track of. We're more concerned with resources that are kept in common. So I'd suggest asking around, but if it's not in the library then I'd say don't get your hopes up."

Connie nodded. "I see. Thanks anyway." There was a brief silence. "Why is it funny?"

"Huh?"

"I just... you said it was funny that I would ask?"

"Oh!" Barbara glanced around before giving an apologetic grimace. "It was only that your dad asked me something similar a while back."

This statement hung awkwardly in the air between them for a moment before Barbara took pity.

"So listen," she said, "if you want to tell me what it is you're looking for then I can tell you if I know about it?"

"It's a reference book," Connie gratefully explained. "A big dictionary of all kinds of information, but there's only one half of it in the library."

"Oh, _that_ book," Barbara said. "Yeah, I can save you some trouble there. It's not here."

Connie's face fell. "Really?"

"'Fraid not. Dunno where that book came from, but we've definitely only ever had the one. The only other reference books we've got are a couple in Bill's collection" — she briefly jerked her head at the stairs — "and they're a lot more specialist. Super boring stuff, trust me."

"I see," said Connie. She gave a hopeful glance past Barbara. "Would it be possible to..."

"I'm afraid Mr Dewey can't be disturbed," Barbara interrupted, suddenly businesslike. "He's busy with some very important number-crunching."

"I see. Well, in that case... thanks for your help."

"Send my regards to your folks!" Barbara grinned, oblivious to Connie's disappointment.

* * *

Back outside, Connie found Jenny sitting on the public stage.

"Important meeting?" she asked when she saw Connie.

Connie was never sure how to respond to sarcasm. "I just went in to ask a question."

"I'm joking, silly." Jenny smirked down at Connie. "Let me guess, they were too busy to talk to you."

Connie nodded. "Well, Mr Dewey was."

"You picked the wrong time of year," Jenny explained. "Gotta add up all the harvests and work out the rations for winter. Except the numbers change with every field harvested and he has to start all over again. Don't know why they don't just wait until the end and do it all at once, but Buck says Mr Dewey's always done it this way."

Connie blinked, taking this in. "Maybe he wants to be absolutely sure it's correct?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he wants to look busy."

"Has Buck ever said anything to him about it?" Connie asked.

Jenny leaned down with a conspiratorial grin. "You didn't hear it from me, but one time I heard a rumour that the Dewey family has lived here ever since the settlements began." She sat up again with an air of mock-sophistication. "Maybe even sooner. Perhaps that explains Mr Dewey living in the past."

Given the Diamond Authority's general methodology in running the settlements, Connie wasn't sure whether to believe this. Still, while other high-level members of the civic administration had recently been moved on, Mr Dewey was still here, so she couldn't discount it out of hand.

Either way, Connie was glad that Jenny had been comfortable sharing this information. "Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure," Jenny replied, appraising Connie with a regal stare.

"Did you supply a fish to Ronaldo recently? You or Kiki?"

Jenny's smile was forced. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She stared down at Connie, unblinking.

Connie began to worry she had misjudged Jenny's attitude. "Oh," she apologised, "I must have got the wrong end of... never mind, forget about it."

"Yes, let's."

"So..." Connie was eager to change the subject. "Are you meeting Buck here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Jenny simply responded.

Connie was kicking herself about mentioning the fish. Ronaldo's potato machine was old news, but she'd still been curious whether he'd had help in creating it. Now Jenny was on the defensive, her goodwill evaporated. It was all Connie could do to stammer a few more empty platitudes before beating a retreat and going home. She resolved not to ask anyone about any sensitive topics from now on unless it could directly help with the Oracle situation.

* * *

The concise dictionary at home was, predictably, scant on detail. It seemed to Connie that the book was largely pitched toward readers who already knew the meanings of the words it defined. The liver, for example, (apart from as 'One who lives',) was only described as 'One of the entrails.' This was followed by some fancy Shakespeare quotes that did little to make up for the book's general uselessness. She cast it aside in disgust.

* * *

At a loss for any other way to continue her research, Connie patiently waited for a day when the windmill was not in use and she could make her way up there without drawing attention. She finally got her chance when most of the adults went off to harvest the last of the maize.

Picking her way up the hill, she wordlessly acknowledged a goat with a distinctive twist to its horn, whom she had nicknamed Connie Junior. Thus far she had found the creatures to be relatively docile, as long as you were careful not to stumble right on top of one as it hid in a dip in the terrain. Connie Junior bleated indignantly, then returned to chewing on a weed.

Inside the windmill, Connie looked around for the portable waxlight and made her way down into the secret stairway, being careful to shut the trapdoor behind her. At the bottom, she fumbled for her key and pushed open the door, knocking respectfully as she entered the murky room.

"Are you here?" she asked, stupidly. As she brought the light into the room, she was met with the odd sight of Amethyst lying flat on her front, propelling herself slowly across the floor with her feet.

Abruptly, the gem launched into a forward roll, landing in a sitting position. "Who's there?" she asked, cupping a hand to one ear.

"It's me, Connie, from... from before."

"Oh, hey, I remember," Amethyst greeted her, sounding tired but not unfriendly. She shuffled round to face the direction of Connie's voice. "The new one, right?"

"That's right," Connie affirmed. Then, hesitantly: "Uh... what were you doing?"

"Oh..." Amethyst looked slightly embarrassed. "I was just filling some time. Pretending to be a lizard."

Connie blinked. "A lizard?"

"I have to make my own entertainment in here, you know. And back in the day I used to enjoy transforming myself into different animals. Ever since my injury, the closest I can get is by pretending."

"Oh... sorry." Connie felt bad. "I wasn't making fun."

Seated on the floor with her knees almost to her chin, Amethyst seemed almost engulfed in her white robes. The effect emphasised the difference between her and her full-sized namesakes. She grinned up at Connie. "It's fine," she said, and turned to feel around for her wooden stool. "It's nice just to have a visitor." Sitting up on the three-legged seat, she faced Connie on her own level. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Connie began, "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about human medical care."

Amethyst tilted her head. "How come? You guys haven't needed doctors for generations."

"And because of that, nobody knows anything about it any more. I'm just... interested." Connie didn't want to discuss her ruminations on the organic regulator, in case it gave Amethyst false hopes. "It's fascinating to me that they used to cut people open in order to help them. It just seems so... counterintuitive."

"Oh, yeah," Amethyst chuckled, "you had to be in a bad way if one of those quacks started sharpening up their knives. I'm sure they killed as many people as they cured." She brought her hands toward each other in a vague, claw-like gesture, grimacing. "First it was getting rid of spirits — or letting them in? Then it was all about having the wrong kind of humours. Of course, you're not much better off if all your humours leak out."

"So people would die when their humours ran out?" Connie shuddered. "It sounds awful."

Amethyst shrugged. "Well, yeah, but like I said, it was usually people who were already injured or dying. Sometimes the doctors could fix it. Organics are so complicated and _messy_," she mused. "When you think about it, it's kind of impressive they were able to do anything."

"Lucky for us we've got regulators now."

"I guess," Amethyst yawned.

"Have the gems always taken them back?" Connie asked. "The regulators, I mean."

"Yeah, they always come and, uh, dispose of people when they've died. Probably don't want you guys getting their technology."

"I suppose." Connie frowned. "It's kind of unfair, really, the technology thing. The more I think about it. I always took it for granted that we shouldn't have access to their technology because it'd be sort of cheating, like we'd jumped the queue. But really... why does that matter? If these types of clean, safe machines exist, why shouldn't we just have them?"

"Hey, if it was up to me," Amethyst grinned. "But my guess is, Pink Diamond saw how humans used to carry on with just their own technology, and decided it would be better if they didn't catch up."

Connie sighed. "It's weird how many things I just never thought about until I moved here."

"Meh, that's just natural," Amethyst assured her. "It's like, being way up too close to something makes it so you can't see it properly. It was exactly the same for me in my own situation. For the longest time I never even questioned why I couldn't be a part of gem society." She gripped the seat of her stool with one hand, leaning way over to the side. "I'm still not sure whether it's me or them that's got it wrong."

"Well, _I_ think they're wrong," Connie emphasised. "And since they're wrong about that one thing, who's to say what else?"

Amethyst merely gave a vague nod of concession. There was a silence.

Connie opted to change the subject. "So, what sorts of creatures did you used to turn yourself into?"

A smile immediately broke out on Amethyst's face. "All sorts! It's a good way to play tricks. I was good at birds, I could fly around and listen in on people."

"You could fly!?" Connie was wide-eyed. "That's amazing! It must be wonderful to have the freedom of the skies."

"Yeah," Amethyst smugly confirmed, "it was. Sometimes I used to invent new animals to scare humans with, like a flying lizard, or a horse with a beak, or a shark with arms."

"Wow," Connie breathed, suitably impressed. "What's a shark?"

"Oh... it's a kind of fish that can eat people. Lives out in the ocean." 

"Yikes. I guess that's why we stay away from there?"

"Nah, you'd have to be real unlucky to get eaten while you were out at sea," Amethyst said cheerfully. "More likely your boat would sink and you'd drown."

"See, this is what's confusing," Connie said. "Whenever I hear or read about life in the old days, it just sounds scary. I don't like how the Diamond Authority has been treating people, but I like being comfortable, and I like being safe. Am I a hypocrite, do you think?"

"Everyone's a hypocrite, if you ask me," Amethyst opined. "Except for the ones who were made perfect, and there's not so many of those. But no, I don't think that makes you a hypocrite. It just makes you..."

"Human?" Connie suggested.

"Eh, I don't think it's limited to just humans."

Connie considered this. "You think gems and humans have more in common than people suppose?"

"Well, yeah. Sure, you guys are less developed, but I never found anything that strange about dealing with humans, once you get past how they're made of weird squishy stuff. They're easy to get along with. It's just a shame you don't live longer, is all."

Connie couldn't help thinking of the Jasper who'd chased her off from her own home. "It'd be nice if more gems were willing to see us as equals."

"Hey, I didn't say equal," Amethyst smirked. "Trust me, I'm still slightly better than you. I should know, right?"

Connie couldn't help smiling. "Of course, you're the expert." she said. "Why, you've spent so much time with humans, you could even be declared an honorary human."

"Nuh-uh," Amethyst shook her head, her arms folded. "I don't want to pick a side."

"You're too late," Connie playfully taunted. "I'm declaring you an honorary human. Now you're my equal!"

"Nooo!" Amethyst groaned, collapsing theatrically from her stool. "Now I'll have to start cutting my hair, and stinking the place out with my frankly disgusting bodily functions."

"Hey!" Connie exclaimed, scandalised. Amethyst pulled a face at her.

The two of them dissolved into giggles. Whenever Connie tried to stop laughing, Amethyst carried on, and it kept setting her off again.

Eventually she composed herself. "Hah. This was fun. But I should probably go. I don't want to get back too late and have awkward questions to answer."

Amethyst nodded in understanding. "Safety first."

Connie was fumbling in her pocket for the key when a thought struck her.

"I'd like you to have this key, Amethyst," she said. "I don't know about the others, but I don't enjoy feeling like a jailer. Next time I come and visit, you can let me in yourself."

"Oh, it's fine," Amethyst waved her off, "if I needed to leave in a hurry I'd just bust out."

"Nevertheless," Connie insisted, "it'd make me feel better. Would you mind?"

Amethyst acquiesced with a shrug, and there was a brief interlude wherein Connie guided her to the door and made sure she could locate the keyhole. "It's primitive human technology," the gem protested, "I'm sure I can manage."

Connie stepped into the stairway, ready to take her leave. She turned back to Amethyst. "Uh, if anyone else comes to visit, maybe don't mention that I gave you that."

Amethyst gave a knowing nod. Then, she pushed her hair to one side and repeated the gesture, clarifying that it had been a wink. The door shut, and Connie waited until she heard the key turn in the lock before leaving.

She descended the hill in a positive mood. Sure, she hadn't really learned anything useful, but Amethyst was the only person she could talk openly with who wasn't far too serious all the time. It was the first time since moving to the settlement that she hadn't felt like she had to watch what she said, and a tension she hadn't realised she was carrying had temporarily lifted.

As she stepped between some shrubs, her foot hit fur and she tripped right over Connie Junior. There was a vengeful bleat, and Connie had to dodge a couple of lazy charges from the beast before it lost interest. Connie backed away, apologising pointlessly.

On one occasion, she had been chased halfway down the hill by Connie Junior. Either the goat was learning to tolerate her, or there was something wrong with it. In the spirit of optimism, Connie chose to believe the former.


	17. Audit

There were no lessons and her parents were busy all day, so Connie had arranged to go and help out at the stables for the morning. Her mother had praised the decision to volunteer as "very mature." Connie had managed to keep quiet the fact that a morning at the stable generally only involved an hour or so of actual work, and Mr DeMayo was content to let her sit around reading for the remainder. Either Mr DeMayo had landed on his feet in an easy role, or he was being indulgent and saving the hard work for after she had left.

(With one thing and another, Connie felt she had earned the right not to worry about this.)

They had fed and watered the horses, and now Connie waited as Greg chatted with visitors who were taking a cart out for some fieldwork. Once he had checked they had everything they needed, he returned to where Connie was failing to concentrate on her book, and they sat for a while in companionable silence.

"I guess we've had the last of the good weather," he said. "Things can get rough once winter sets in."

"We could do with some rain," Connie observed.

"Be careful what you wish for," Mr DeMayo smirked. "When you get a real storm out here, it's hard to know where the sea ends and the land begins."

Connie wasn't sure if he was joking. "It's my first winter by the sea," she said.

"It's the winds," he said. "You get that wind coming in from the sea and it's as if the rain is coming in horizontally. Best to stay indoors on a day like that."

"Where I used to live," Connie said, "it might be the sunniest day, and suddenly clouds would blow in and rain on everything, and be gone almost before you knew what was happening."

Greg chuckled. "Yeah, we get that here sometimes. I guess I don't mind the rain, but I do prefer summer over winter. I miss the cherries," he added wistfully.

"Oh!" Connie exclaimed slightly too loudly, and there was a nickering from a nearby stable. "Mr DeMayo, I forgot I keep meaning to ask. You came in from another settlement, right? Did you ever come across a book called The Adventures of Lemuel Gulliver?"

Greg considered this. "I'm not sure. Can you tell me anything about it?"

"I've got a sequel at home," Connie explained, "but nobody has the original. It's about a guy who travels around having adventures." She immediately realised this was an apt synopsis for a good proportion of all books. "Sorry, that's not a very good description. In the one I've got, he keeps going to different strange islands."

Greg was nodding. "No, that's fine, now you say that it sounds a little familiar. I think I heard that story when I was a kid."

"Do you remember any of it?" Connie asked eagerly. The missing book had become a minor obsession, or at least a means of occupying her mind.

"Hmm." He looked dubious. "It was a good while ago, and I don't know if I was told it from the actual book. But let's see. I know he went to an island where all the people were tiny, and another place where they were all giants."

"What happened on those islands?"

"Eh... sorry, but I can't really remember." He suddenly brightened up. "Oh, but I do remember the ending! He ends up in this place where all the people were horrible savages, but there were some talking horses who were really civilised."

"That adds up," Connie said, "because there was a reference to something like that in the sequel. I couldn't figure out what it meant."

"I always figured the moral of the story was, horses are nicer than people." He rubbed his chin, staring pensively at the ceiling. "Huh, maybe it had more influence on me than I thought."

Connie didn't have high expectations of getting any further details, but asked anyway. "In the story, did he meet any gems?"

"Not that I remember," Greg said. "It was mostly different-sized humans."

"Isn't it weird how in all these old books, there's never any real mention of gems? At least, not so far as I've seen."

Greg gave a vague shrug. "I guess back then they kept to themselves, and just didn't seem that important. It's hard to imagine, now."

"We have all this written history, and all the time they totally missed the point of what was really happening. It makes me wonder what we're missing right now."

Greg was wary. "Well, now we have the guidance of the Diamonds."

"Sure, but..." — Connie tried to sound at once conspiratorial and flippant — "they're probably not telling us _everything_ about the world, right? I mean," she added after a moment, "that they only need to tell us what they need us to know. What we need to know. You know."

"Too much knowledge can be dangerous," Greg pointed out. "I've always been happy to trust in Pink Diamond. She knows what's best for us, after all."

"But is everybody getting what's best?" Connie asked urgently. It was suddenly important that Mr DeMayo understood where she was coming from. "Is everyone happy? You're friends with Vidalia, right? Does she seem happy to you?"

Greg bristled slightly at this. "All I know is, self-sufficient farming was identified as the best way for humans to live. Not everybody can be happy all the time, but you know... I'm sure there are limits even to Pink Diamond's power. You can't force people to be happy."

Connie wondered where Pink Diamond was at that moment, and whether it really mattered.

"You've just got to learn to be content in your own niche," Greg continued with a strained smile. "Sure, it'd be nice to be able to travel, but... well, you can't have everything, right?" He chuckled, then fell silent, staring into the middle distance.

"Uh... sorry if that was a weird subject to bring up," Connie said.

Greg snapped out of his reverie and chuckled again, more sincerely. "Ah, it's fine to have questions about this stuff, especially at your age. Just, uh, maybe be careful who you ask."

* * *

A little later, Connie wandered the boardwalk weighing up her lunch options.

"Ah, young Miss Maheshwaran," Mr Pita said as Connie entered the cafeteria. "Is there something I can assist you with? You surely haven't come here for a meal."

This was new. Connie tried to decipher Mr Pita's haughty smile. "Um... is there any reason why that would be... a bad thing?"

He gave an exaggerated burst of laughter. "Really, young lady, you embarrass us! You are here so often that people will think you are showing us undue favour. A girl in your position must be a friend to all food vendors. Why not show Mr Barriga or Mr Fryman that you have not forgotten about them?"

Mr Pita always seemed angry, even when he was being aggressively polite. Despite his diplomatic phrasing, it felt strangely like she was being thrown out. "Well... I suppose, if you're sure..."

"I won't be **offended**," he added, his eyelid twitching. "Come back whenever you like."

Connie emerged back out into the daylight, confused. She couldn't remember doing anything to upset Mr Pita, but perhaps he too was spooked by recent goings-on and wanted to avoid scrutiny. Whatever the reason, it was seriously limiting Connie's dining options. She'd been avoiding the Frymans' place for a while now, wary of any encounter with Mr Fryman. She hadn't spoken to the man since meeting Amethyst, and had no idea how much he knew. She was therefore paranoid that she would be too obviously suspicious in any future encounter.

That only left the bakery, so she continued in that direction.

A familiar figure was lounging against the back of the counter when she walked in. "You again?" Lars grumbled, but there was a listlessness to his manner, and Connie was concerned that his greeting lacked its usual venom.

"Good afternoon, Lars. Are you in charge again?" she asked him.

"Yeah, worse luck," Lars shrugged. "My folks are busy arranging to get a ration of wood. For some household repairs," he added pointedly.

"Oh. That's..." Connie trailed off, unsure what to say. Instead, she asked: "Is Sadie not helping you today?"

"Even you should have noticed," Lars said, "that everyone's rethinking who it's wise to be seen with. Not that I can exactly blame her." He stared glumly at the counter. "She probably just doesn't want to embarrass her mom."

Connie racked her brains, realising she didn't actually know who Sadie's parents were.

"It's probably for the best," Lars continued, standing up straight. "I'm probably going to end up stuck running this place in the end, so I might as well get used to it ahead of time."

"Well... you wouldn't have to, surely," Connie hesitantly replied. "You don't have to follow the same path as your parents."

"Yeah, but what else would I do?" Lars sneered. "Spend all day digging in a field? Huh, no thanks. This is my only real option, that is if those gems don't come up with some excuse to ship me off to who-knows-where." He glared defiantly at nothing in particular. "Not that I'd care. I hate this place anyway."

Connie considered this. "Your home's always been in this settlement, right?"

"I've always lived here," Lars said quietly. "I never really thought of it as home."

This was an odd concept. Growing up, Connie had always thought of settlement P5T7 as home, and now that she had been living in settlement B1C7 for a good while, she felt like she belonged. She thought this might be an issue with Lars himself rather than the settlement, but declined to say so. "Well, there are worse places to live. Believe me, this place is way more interesting than where I grew up. I mean," she quickly clarified, "interesting in good ways. Forgetting about that other stuff that's going on, for the moment. I'm sure that'll all be over before too long, anyway," she concluded with forced jollity.

Lars narrowed his eyes. "How would you know that? You said you didn't know anything about your dad's peacekeeper work. Which is it?"

"I don't!" she hastily exclaimed. "I was just guessing. I'm... a natural optimist?"

"That must be nice. Some of us have to live in the real world."

Connie smiled politely. "I guess you're right. My sheltered existence has probably blinded me to the harsh realities of life."

This could easily have been sarcasm, but in truth she was grateful for Lars's perspective. Even though she was deeply embroiled in a dangerous conspiracy and Lars had been affected only peripherally, he was clearly having just as bad a time of it as her (if not worse.) There was something in the boy's constitution that made him sense hardships all the more, and to feel beset by troubles even if they weren't there. She felt sorry for him, and simultaneously encouraged — for if she had more naturally high spirits than Lars, surely she could find a way to cope even with the current circumstances. And if Lars, despite his misgivings, could find it in himself to stand up to the Diamond Authority, then what excuse did she have?

Lars was losing patience. "Did you come in here for a reason, or did you just feel like wasting my time?"

An answering stomach pang reminded Connie of her purpose. "Oh, yeah. I was just after a bite of lunch, if it's not too much trouble. I'm sure we've got stuff at home if you're..."

"Sure, whatever," Lars interrupted, leaning to retrieve something from out of sight behind the counter. "They've really gotten to you, haven't they?" he remarked casually. "Just like everyone else. If you want something to eat, don't tiptoe around it." He dropped some slices of shiny bread in front of Connie. "Here, have as much as you want. This loaf was on its way out, so I baked these up with some egg and a dash of honey. It's better warm, but... yeah."

Connie was already halfway through a slice. "It'f really goob," she enthused through a mouthful of crumbs.

Lars didn't respond to this directly, but acknowledged the review with a sort of complacent smirk. "The thing is," he continued, "they don't understand their own rules. 'Ooh, don't hoard food!' You know what that really means? We should enjoy it while it lasts. These fools trying to find ways to spin stuff out so we don't need help from the gems, _they're_ the ones hoarding." He hoisted another item onto the counter. "There's cake too if you want a bit."

Connie nodded enthusiastically. "I'd love a piece. What kind of cake is it?"

Lars affected a studied nonchalance. "I used pumpkin and apple. It's just an experiment."

The cake was easily up to the standard of Lars's competition entry. "Lars, can I ask you something?" She decided to take the risk as Lars was in a less adversarial mood than usual.

He looked around shiftily. "Uh, what?"

"I just wondered. You seem to enjoy baking and you're good at it. So how come you always talk as if working here is such a bad thing?"

"Well," Lars spluttered, flustered. "I mean... it's not that it's _bad_ bad... it's more just, you know, the burden of it. And... people's expectations. I wouldn't expect **you** to understand," he haughtily concluded.

"Your parents' expectations?" Connie asked. "Or people in general?"

"Uh..." Lars avoided eye contact, staring out of the window as if looking for an excuse to end the conversation.

_Not much chance of that,_ Connie thought. And yet...

"Oh, look," Lars pointedly announced. "It's your friends."

Connie wheeled round, expecting perhaps to see some classmates. Not observing anybody immediately outside, she peered along the path to the boardwalk. There, the unmistakeable figure of a Jasper loomed imposingly over some humans.

Connie's eyes widened, and she turned back to Lars. "I, uh, I have to go," she stammered. "Thanks for... look, could you maybe not mention to anyone that I was here? If they don't ask?"

Lars raised an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not interesting enough to talk about."

"Thanks, Lars!" she responded, breathlessly running out of the door. Catching a glimpse of the Zircon entering one of the buildings along the boardwalk, Connie did not approach but instead took a hard right and ran inland, getting out of sight as quickly as possible. From here she took the second-most straightforward route back to her own house.

She had formulated the kernel of a plan to deal with the Zircon's crew, but this was the first time she'd learned of their presence early enough to put it into action.

* * *

In the house, Connie crept upstairs and back down again, uttering the occasional loudly-whispered "Dad?" Just as she had hoped, it was still deserted. (Her mom was at some kind of all-day meeting with Mrs Lezner at the civic hall.) Now she needed to choose the right place to conceal herself.

As far as she could tell, there was always some kind of meeting and discussion between her father and his Zircon after they had been investigating. This was never at the civic hall, but always here, and always guarded from outside by those Jaspers. What Connie was gambling on was that they wouldn't check the inside of the house first. As far as anybody knew, she was out all day — and regardless of that, they would naturally expect her to make her presence obvious if she was at home.

The question was, where in the house would the meeting take place? The drawing room seemed plausible, but on the other hand, maybe that was too informal. Perhaps they would sit at the dining room table. One option would be for Connie to wait upstairs and sneak back down when they were ensconced — however, the floorboards of the stairs made it difficult to be stealthy. After some deliberation, she decided to hide in the pantry. It felt like a clever choice: since gems didn't eat, her dad would have no reason to offer the Zircon food, and would probably abstain from eating anything himself until she had gone.

_Definitely,_ she told herself. He definitely wouldn't come into the pantry. This was a _good_ plan. Pushing some jars to one side to make room, she lay down and shuffled into a space on the bottom shelf behind the door. If her analysis was wrong then the hiding place would be worthless, but it would defeat a cursory glance from someone passing by the room.

Now all she had to do was wait. This should have been the easiest part of the plan, but it was in fact quite mentally gruelling. It gave her time to wonder about where the gems were searching and what they might find. There was also the possibility at the back of her mind that she was wrong, and they wouldn't even be coming to the house. If so, she could wait here for hours before ever realising that she had wasted her time, and in such an undignified pursuit. (Should the time ever come to tell her story, she resolved to leave this part out.)

Just as Connie was debating internally whether to move to a more comfortable spot, she heard muffled sounds within the house. This was it! She waited a couple of minutes to see if she could tell where the voices were coming from. When it was amply clear that nobody was checking the pantry, she crawled awkwardly from her hiding space, wincing as she brushed against some jars and made them clank together. Nobody came running in, and replaying the sound in her mind she concluded that it had been too quiet to hear from anywhere else.

She edged her way out into the kitchen, nervously checking every corner. No sign of anybody so far. As she crept closer to the main entrance, it became clear that her dad was in fact in the drawing room as she had initially guessed. Connie cursed her luck, as this meant she would have to eavesdrop from the hallway — right in the path of anyone exiting the room, and with only the front door separating her from one of those intimidating Jaspers.

The door to the room was ajar but not open, and Connie tucked herself into the nearby corner next to the stairs. Here, she could remain still and silent without being too uncomfortable, and still be ready to move in an emergency. She focused on the quiet voices from within.

The Zircon's muffled tones resolved themselves into comprehensible speech. "Given the history surrounding that particular family group I was really expecting more to come of this. This lack of meaningful progress will reflect badly on all of us if it is allowed to continue. I will require your full cooperation in the upcoming action."

There was a pause before her dad carefully responded. "I'm... _asking_ you to reconsider." His tone stretched the limits of diplomacy, and Connie knew instinctively that he was pushing his luck.

"I have delayed this for as long as is reasonable. Please, for both our sakes, don't make requests that fall beyond your authority."

"Morale in the settlement is bad already," Doug insisted. "I need to be able to do my job going forward. People will resent this and it's going to make things im... extremely difficult for me."

The Zircon was undeterred. "That may be so, but you fail to realise the alternative could cause you bigger problems. A continued lack of results could be interpreted as complicity on your part. Now, I personally have no doubts as to your loyalty, but I have no choice but to make objective reports and I cannot guarantee my superiors would have the same interpretation..."

"Forgive me, but this is hardly fair. I've done my best but I'm working with insufficient information. I feel I've been put in an impossible position."

"I confess sympathy for your misgivings, Mr Maheshwaran. Believe me, I myself share them. You're not the only one being placed in jeopardy." At this, there was a long pause before the Zircon continued speaking. Connie tried without success to picture her seated in the comfy armchair. "Do you know that I was never made for this task?" There was by now a note of sad exasperation in the gem's voice. "Dealing with the concerns of humans is beyond the natural scope of my cut. And yet I'm expected to achieve the impossible, without sufficient resources, without the support of a Sapphire, without anything. And in the event of failure I will be judged just as harshly as you, if not more so."

It came across, oddly enough, as an appeal to camaraderie. Connie felt a strange pride that her dad could be taken into the Zircon's confidence to such an extent.

"...We don't have any choice here, do we?" her dad said flatly.

"The sooner we resolve this, the sooner everything can go back to normal. I'm sure whatever... ill feelings are stirred by this audit will be short-lived. If time passes and you truly feel you're unable to command authority, I can recommend your relocation, but surely that won't be necessary?"

"Well, if it came to that, couldn't I just step down? Work the fields and let somebody else take over peacekeeping? My family is happy here."

Connie tried to ignore the fact that her own future was being negotiated in the next room, and remain focused.

"It would be most irregular," Zircon said, "but... I can bear your request in mind if there are extenuating circumstances." 

The briefest of pauses before Mr Maheshwaran got back to the main subject. "So... when's this audit going to happen?"

"I can't give a precise time scale at this point. I will need to requisition additional forces, enough gems and robonoids to supervise the human population while the searches are carried out. A high proportion of local gempower is currently occupied with future preparations. Given the circumstances I've no doubt I can get what we need, but there could be some administrative hoops to jump through."

"What kind of future preparations?" Doug asked.

"Nothing that need concern you." A very matter-of-fact dismissal.

"Just tell me this, at least. It's not technology, is it? You're looking for something else." Connie's eyes widened at this. Perhaps her dad was closer to the truth than she had realised, but how had he figured this out?

Zircon sounded almost amused. "Obviously I can't confirm or disconfirm that," she said. "But I look forward to a day when you can focus your insight on the more conventional aspects of your work. It shouldn't be long."

There was a sense that business was approaching a conclusion, and at once Connie was conscious of her precarious position. Not daring to stay put any longer, she rose slightly from her sitting position and scuttled to the bottom of the staircase on her palms and feet. From there, she carefully crawled up the stairs, hugging the wall so as to avoid putting weight in the middle of the floorboards. There was no choice but to remain hidden until they left, and so she concealed herself under the bed in her room.

This felt important. They hadn't outright said what this audit was, but Connie could take a decent guess. A force of gems going from street to street, from building to building, from room to room, and not leaving until they had found what they were looking for. The Diamond Authority's patience must be at an end.

* * *

At last there was a sound of the front door closing, and Connie dared to believe she had a clear run out of the house to share her findings with PeeDee or Ronaldo. She waited a few minutes, then edged up to the side of the bedroom window and peeked out: no sign of any gems. With this established, she quietly descended the stairs.

As she reached the hallway, she realised which possibility she'd neglected: her dad was still home. He was leaning on the kitchen counter, alternately sipping from a glass of water and staring at its contents with open suspicion.

With a sense of inevitability, Connie froze in the doorway. However, when he finally looked up and saw her, her dad merely gave a puzzled smile. "Good afternoon, Connie. I didn't hear you come in."

Connie forced a manic grin. "Uh, yes! I was so caught up that I almost forgot about lunch. Just thought I'd drop in now and... grab something?"

Doug consulted his pocket watch, and then nodded solemnly. "You know, with one thing and another, I've not had time for lunch myself. Let's see what we've got."

As her dad rummaged in the pantry, Connie's relief at (apparently) not having been caught was offset by some more negative feelings. There was, of course, frustration that she was now delayed in returning to the boardwalk to find out what had happened. It was also difficult to suppress guilt over the unnecessary extra helping she would now be eating — coupled with the residual guilt she'd been feeling in the past weeks for deceiving her parents.

She stifled these emotions and tried to look grateful as her father served up some leftovers. Connie helped herself to a drink and joined him in the dining room.

"I've just spoken with my Zircon," he said, and Connie nearly choked on a mouthful of food. Trying to speak made her eyes water, and she had to take a few sips of her drink before she could respond.

"Oh..." — she coughed — "is that so?" She smiled weakly. Was this a mind game? Did her dad know what she'd done?

He looked at her with amused concern. "Are you all right?"

Connie nodded in affirmation, taking another drink of water. She cleared her throat again.

"Anyway," Doug continued, "I didn't forget what you said about people being relocated, and how it would be better if things were explained more clearly. So I asked if there was any more information we could have about their policies on moving people."

Connie hoped he hadn't mentioned her by name. "What, uh, did she say?"

Her dad smiled. "It actually made a lot of sense, the way she explained it. I didn't know, but they've spent centuries studying organic biology, and apparently there are problems caused by small populations that can only be solved by moving people around. It's got to be enforced since everyone might just stay put if it was left up to them."

"What kind of problems?"

"Your mom might understand it better," he admitted, "I never had much of a head for science. But just as it's natural for gems to be alike, it's natural for us humans to be different. Since we're all in isolated groups, we need new people brought in so we can maintain that variety. Otherwise, in a few generations people in a settlement would all be the same, which again, we're the opposite to gems so that wouldn't be good. So that's why there's not always an obvious reason for being relocated. It's for the good of people in the future." He glanced at the ceiling. "What did she call it? Population dynamics."

Connie mulled this over. "For small populations?"

Her dad nodded earnestly, clutching his water glass on the table. "Apparently they've been researching it for years. It's easy to forget how hard they all work. Still, I suppose you can get more done when you don't sleep."

"Hmm."

"So," he asked, "do you feel any better about things, knowing that?"

Connie had no interest in adding to her father's troubles. "Absolutely," she said. "Hey, thanks for lunch but I'm going to head back out if that's all right?"

"It's fine," he said, thoughtful. "Everything's fine."


	18. On The Fragility Of Insects

Connie's worries that it wouldn't be clear what had happened were unfounded: the boardwalk was still very much a hive of activity. It quickly became apparent to Connie that the Frymans' shop had been the subject of the raid, and she had to pause on the periphery of the scene to consider the implications. It certainly wasn't a good omen.

Various interested residents were standing around exchanging gossip. Mr Fryman was in quiet conference with Mr Pita out front of their respective manufactories. Ronaldo could be seen pacing up and down, agitated. It didn't seem wise trying to talk to him with all these people around, but on the other hand, time was of the essence.

Connie weaved her way through the small crowd to the front of the potato manufactory. She overheard a comment about it being "ridiculous targeting that family again" — either the speaker didn't notice Connie, or had no interest in censoring their own opinions.

"If you need help tidying your stock," Mr Pita was saying, "don't hesitate to ask. I will send Jenny or Kiki to help at once. This could have happened to either of us." Noticing Connie, he clammed up until she had walked past. So, she mentally counted off the options: this was simply solidarity between food vendors, or Mr Fryman knew exactly why he had been targeted and was keeping Mr Pita in the dark, or they were both in on the conspiracy and covertly discussing it in broad daylight. She shook her head — how had she gotten so paranoid?

When he saw her approaching, Ronaldo caught her eye and gave a minute but intense shake of his head. A stern glance gestured further down the boardwalk, indicating that she should keep moving.

"Not now," he whispered, slightly too loud. "Later," he added as she passed him by. Nobody appeared to pay any attention to the surreptitious interaction, and when Connie risked a glance back, rounding the corner, Ronaldo had gone back inside.

She was at a loss what to do next. There was little point in maintaining their discretion given the current circumstances, but it would do little good trying to convince the Frymans of this. Perhaps she could come back later on, when things had quietened down. Or else, she would just have to wait until tomorrow to confide in them. And tell them... what? That it was over, that they were doomed? It was too large a burden to carry alone.

At once, she remembered there was someone else she could confide in. Her aimless trudge gained direction and momentum as she veered first toward the stables, before passing them to mount the hill leading to the windmill. The sails were locked and she could not easily be spotted approaching from this direction. It was, she reasoned, a calculated risk. She stuck close to the fence on her left, tasting salt in the air as the sea crashed against rocks below.

* * *

After a cautious exploration of the mill, Connie determined that she was indeed alone, and carefully made her way to the secret basement. There, she gave three rapid taps on the door.

"Just a moment," Amethyst's voice came from within. There was a muffled rustling sound, followed by a quiet scraping on the other side of the door. It continued for a few moments before Amethyst spoke up again. "Uh, got a slight problem... oh wait, here it is." There was a mechanical twang as the key engaged with the lock, and the door was pulled open.

Amethyst greeted Connie with a wry grin. "Welcome to my lair."

"Thank you," Connie politely responded. Entering the room, she added, "I'm glad the key is working out," largely so that Amethyst would be able to hear she was through the door. The gem pushed the door to and found her seat.

Connie stared intently as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. A few beams of faint light shone through where the floorboards above were too far apart. It didn't seem worth striking a light when Amethyst wouldn't benefit. The gem was now sitting on her stool, her head tilted keenly in Connie's direction. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything?" Connie asked her.

"Nah, I was just doing some thinking," Amethyst vaguely replied.

"I see." There was a brief pause, and she felt she should explain: "It's just me again, the others couldn't make it. Um, the two boys I was here with before," she clarified, suddenly realising Amethyst might not know who Connie was referring to. "Do you..?" The words died on her lips. She had been about to ask whether other humans also came to visit, curious whether PeeDee and Ronaldo had entrusted others with the location. In the moment, she realised that her eagerness to know the identities of their co-conspirators was exceeded only by her desire to embrace the relative safety of ignorance.

Besides, Amethyst wasn't big on learning names, so perhaps she wouldn't even know.

"So," Amethyst shrugged, filling the silence, "you got more questions for me?"

"There's so much I don't know," Connie admitted, "but I don't know what to ask. I came here because..." Again she trailed off awkwardly. Was it really fair, to come here just to unburden herself? How would it actually help Amethyst, to know that the net was closing in? To spend her remaining days in fear and resignation?

"I bet people always ask you the same things," she said instead. "Have you heard a lot of the same questions, over the years?"

"Yep," Amethyst confirmed, "including that one. Hah!"

Connie let out a quiet chuckle of mock-chagrin. "I guess we humans are more alike than we realise. Well, what's the most common question?"

"People always want to know what life was like back in the old days. I mean, even back in the old days they wanted to know what it was like before that. Works out for me because at least I was there, I can kind of answer it. It was tougher way back when they used to ask me stuff about how to fight their wars and run their societies. It's not like I know much about anything like that, so I mostly just used to keep it vague and let them draw their own conclusions. Pretty dumb but it usually seemed to work. I think it's the blind thing." She pulled aside the unruly tuft of hair covering her left eye, and subjected Connie to an empty stare by way of demonstration. "For some reason it makes people assume you're wise."

"It might also be the gem thing," Connie ventured, still unclear on the etiquette of disagreeing with Amethyst. "I always assume any gem knows a lot more than I do. It's been nice to get to know you, because I'd never thought of a gem as someone you could have a conversation with and be... well, kind of equal. It helps to see you as... I don't want to say 'more human,' because that doesn't really make sense."

"Well... thanks?" Amethyst replied. "I'm gonna take it as a compliment, unless you were just calling me stupid."

"Oh no, not that," Connie hastily protested, before seeing Amethyst's smirk. "Oh, ha-ha, but yes, it is a compliment. And it's made me think about some other gems, and about how maybe they're not as powerful as we like to think." She thought of Zircon's quiet despair, and the implied hierarchical pressure bearing down on her.

"Well, you know my opinion on gems and humans. It's mostly down to perspective. I bet if I could only live for a few decades, I'd turn out pretty much like you guys."

"You're already plenty like us — don't forget you're an honorary human," Connie laughed, before the sobering thought of the audit intruded on her mind again. "Um, when this is all over... I mean, even if it's years and years from now, if there's a way to set you free... what would you do? What would you most want to do?"

Amethyst reclined slightly, her head lolling back. "I'd go outside," she said. "I really miss the outside, the wind, the warmth from the sun." She had the wistful tone of someone reluctantly indulging an impossible longing, and Connie felt a little guilty — but still, it was important to know more about what was at stake. Amethyst continued: "I wish I could spend time with other Amethysts. Properly, as myself, without higher-ups there to sniff out imperfection. I'd like to talk to them about stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Connie asked.

Amethyst sighed. "I want to know if they'd accept me the way I really am."

"I'm sure they would." It felt important to back up this reassurance with concrete evidence. "I've met a few Amethysts. An Amethyst brought us here to this settlement. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed at the time so I didn't say much, but she was nice to us. The ones who bring deliveries, too, they remind me of you. You've all been friendly. I don't think you're any different from them, so how could they have any problem with that?"

"Thanks," the gem smiled. "Ugh, I try not to think about those kind of things too much. Talk about something else, take my mind off of it."

Connie was momentarily stumped. Not knowing what else to talk about, she could just tell Amethyst about her day. But there wasn't much to tell without revealing how close the Diamond Authority was to finding her. "I was helping out at the stables earlier. That's kind of fun. Most of the harvests are in by now so there's not really much going on. I was just chatting with Mr DeMayo about books and stuff. I'd been looking for a particular book and it turned out he'd heard of it too."

"Oh yeah?" Amethyst interrupted. "Which book? I might know it, people used to read books to me."

"Um, it's about a man called Lemuel Gulliver who travels around lots of places."

"Yeah, I remember that one." Amethyst waved one hand in an outward gesture. "Everyone was reading it. You really don't have a copy here?"

Connie stared intently at the gem, who didn't seem to think this revelation important. "Can you remember any of it?"

"I should hope so, I must have heard the whole thing at least five times. You want me to tell you some?"

Connie enthusiastically agreed, whereupon Amethyst launched into a concise and somewhat disjointed retelling of the main story points of the novel. Connie at first interjected only to keep Amethyst from getting distracted or repeating herself, but as the tale unfolded, she couldn't help commenting on some of the symbolism underlying certain storylines. These discussions tended toward the one-sided, as Connie volunteered her own interpretation of plot points that Amethyst had only ever taken at face value. ("If that was what it meant, why wouldn't they just say it?" Amethyst protested.)

Still, it was hard not to acknowledge metaphors when they were so transparent. The people of Lilliput were clearly a criticism of humanity's war-like tendencies, their conflicts having no basis in logic or morality. Next, the giants Gulliver encountered in Broblaham (Amethyst kept garbling the name) gave a close-up look at the physical imperfections of organic life-forms, repulsive in magnification.

Gulliver's next destination, Laputa, was obvious in its significance. A civilisation with the ability to suspend a vast island in the sky through unknown science, with superior understanding of mathematics and music. Beneath them, a land made desolate by its own inhabitants' misapplication of science and technology. The resemblance to the gems' vantage point over humanity's folly was uncanny, and it was fascinating to have it confirmed that even back then, people like the author of this book had understood humanity was losing its way.

There was the cautionary tale of the land where some humans were born immortal, but instead of staying forever young, spent their endless years afflicted with the difficulties of old age. This, Connie reasoned, was a warning not to envy the gems their immortality. For a human to live forever would be in some ways a prison.

Finally, she listed raptly as Amethyst retold the tale of the Hoonems, the intelligent horses that had had such an unconscious influence on Greg. In the story, Gulliver assumed the ravenous violent Yahoos to be wild animals, and only when viewing them up close did he realise they were human just like him. As she heard more about the Hoonems, Connie was struck by yet more uncanny parallels.

"Was this _really_ written before Pink Diamond's intervention?" she asked Amethyst.

"Sure, yeah." Amethyst was puzzled by the interruption.

"It's just... well, the Yahoos are humans and the Hoonems are gems, right?"

Amethyst's face showed pitying incomprehension. "Uh, the Hoonems are _horses_."

"Yes, but... there's different types of horses, and the ones of each type all have the same abilities and role in society. Isn't that basically the same as gems?"

"I mean, kinda. But they don't live any longer than humans, and they raise children." 

Connie was reluctant to concede the point. "Well... just supposing for the moment that they represent gems. Doesn't it seem strange? They herd the humans like animals and put them to work. Then they're trying to find a peaceful way to get rid of the humans, and decide to stop them from breeding." She shook her head in wonderment. "It's just so similar to the situation on Earth now, or to the worst interpretation of it. And yet the author seemed to think we deserve it, because of how we are. So was this a coded... prediction? A warning?"

Amethyst gave a lopsided smile. "I think you've been spending too much time with those others. It wasn't like today, if people wanted to write about gems they'd just say so. Believe it or not," she wryly added, "people spent most of their time thinking about other stuff."

Connie nodded. "That's what Mr DeMayo thought too. You think I'm just seeing patterns because I've been thinking about these things so much?"

"Maybe," Amethyst shrugged.

"I guess nobody could ever have predicted what the gems would do," Connie mused, half to herself. "But if it was really like in the book, they could have stopped us from having children at all. We'd have been gone more than a hundred years ago. And it's not like we work for the gems, either. The only work we do is for ourselves."

"The Hoonems put them to work for their own good," Amethyst mischievously pointed out.

"However many ways I turn it all over, I just can't come up with an explanation that makes sense," Connie sighed. "It's plain exhausting."

Amethyst was sympathetic. "Aw, well, you took my mind off things for a bit. It feels like nobody ever comes here just to visit, so thanks."

Connie realised she'd forgotten all about her original purpose. It was probably for the best — in a way, her mind had been taken off things too. Now she found herself once again dwelling on Amethyst's precarious situation. There was something she had to ask.

"You don't have to answer this, but... would you want to be free even if it meant someone got hurt?"

Amethyst sat motionless, resting her chin on one hand. After a moment, she asked: "Do you hurt flies?"

Connie was somewhat thrown by the question. A jar of apple vinegar on the kitchen windowsill at home was cloudy with drowned insects, but she decided it would be counterproductive to mention this. "I don't _torment_ them," she said. "I'll chase one off if it's getting at my food, but I don't go out of my way to hurt them."

Amethyst nodded. "Did you ever have one crawl on you, and go to flick it away, but then you realise you squished it by mistake?"

"Yes," Connie had to admit, "I suppose that has happened." She studied Amethyst's expression, hoping this wasn't the wrong answer.

"Did you feel bad?" the gem bluntly asked.

"Well... maybe for a few moments, but..."

"...it's just a fly," Amethyst nodded. "They die in the winter anyway. See, I think that's how a lot of gems would feel about any organic life, humans included." She smiled ruefully. "It's different when you've lived with the flies, and accepted their help and shelter."

"I hope there's more setting us apart from flies," Connie said, "but I think I understand."

"But it's easy for me to say that," Amethyst finally admitted, "when it's just a question. The truth is, if I really had a chance to escape the Diamond Authority for good? I don't know what I'd be prepared to do." She shrugged. "Maybe one day I'll find out, and then I'll get to live with it. Heh."

So as well as everything else, there was Amethyst's conscience to bear in mind. The gem's expression was hard to make out beyond the resigned smile, and Connie realised the light was failing. She'd been here longer than she originally intended. She was about to make her excuses and head out, when another thought struck her.

"Next time I come back, I don't think you should answer the door regardless. It's not safe unless you're certain who's there."

Amethyst shrugged as she made her way to open the door. "Who else would it be?"

"I'll give a special knock," Connie said, trying to think of a good example. "Three quiet and one loud. Or... two slow and one fast." She frowned. What if someone knocked in the same pattern by sheer coincidence? "No, wait. On second thoughts... I'll just say it's me."

"See, that's better," Amethyst smiled. "You're thinking like a normal person." She fumbled to give Connie a sympathetic pat on the arm. "You've got to keep some perspective, right? Rattle the bars too hard and you'll go crazy."

* * *

The sun was edging its way to the horizon as Connie made her way back down the hill, and she realised how much time she had spent in the windmill. She shivered as a chill wind blew in from the sea. She needed to get home before her parents started wondering where she was, but she also needed to find out what had happened at Mr Fryman's shop. She continued into the settlement at a brisk pace, and to her relief found that the boardwalk had quietened down, people's curiosity being usurped by their dinner plans.

The hatch to the potato manufactory was shut. A hand-written notice pinned to the door read 'CLOSED DUE TO UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCES'. There was a lot of activity audible in the adjacent cafeteria — Mr Pita must be busy.

Connie's fist hovered awkwardly near the door before she gave a surreptitious knock. After a few moments without any response, she knocked more forcefully, glancing up and down the boardwalk.

At last, there was a sound of footsteps and the door creaked open. "Connie!" Ronaldo exclaimed. "Where on earth were you? This is really bad. Quick, come inside." Without another word, he marched to the back of the kitchen and Connie felt she had no choice but to follow.

The kitchen area was in a real mess. The pots and pans had been piled into stacks on the dead stove, but it was readily apparent that a full pan of frying potato wedges had been knocked all across the floor. Some of it had been mopped up, but there was still a giant slippery patch across the tiles, and large greasy footprints leading through into the next room.

The store room had been ransacked, and loose potatoes spilled ankle-deep into the small dining area. PeeDee sat morosely at the table. He gave Connie a look which remained glum, but seemed at least to acknowledge her as not being the source of his troubles. Ronaldo stood at the other end of the room, leaning with his fists on the tabletop.

"This little visit shows two things," he announced. "They suspect me, which is bad, and they've hit on the idea of searching utility buildings, which is worse. We're almost out of time."

"What happened in there?" Connie asked, gesturing to the kitchen. "Why was the stuff all on the floor? Did they do that?"

PeeDee waved his arm in a broad lateral arc. "I think one of the Jaspers just knocked it when they were coming through. You've seen how big they are, and it's not as if they were trying their best to keep things tidy."

"I could smell it on her," Ronaldo grimly intoned. "That was boiling vegetable oil. You've no idea how tough they are. And now they've come in here and wrecked everything."

"That's a real shame," Connie commiserated.

PeeDee was philosophical. "If anything, we should be surprised this didn't happen sooner. They were never able to prove anything last time, but I'll bet they never stopped suspecting us."

"This is personal," Ronaldo hissed. "They've ruined my experiments. My soil samples? All destroyed, they smashed all the jars. That was years of work — years! Why do that unless I was getting too close to the truth?"

"Was there anything incriminating down there?" Connie asked, hesitant. She decided she would refuse any invitation to tour a dark cellar littered with dirt and broken glass.

"I don't think we'd still be here if there was," PeeDee pointed out. "The metal rods from Ronaldo's fish experiment were still down there, but... it's just some metal. They didn't touch them."

"Scant consolation!" Ronaldo snorted.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Ronaldo stared at her coldly. "What you could have done to help was find out this was coming, and warn us. That's the whole reason you're here, but I'm sorry to say your whole contribution to this enterprise so far has been nil."

"Oh, so you don't want my news?" Connie sarcastically retorted. She was sorely tempted to keep the information to herself, but yielded to the frustrating beckon of the greater good. "It's not exactly easy to get information from the gems without them knowing, but that's what I've been doing. That's what I've done. But I can just leave — I mean, if you don't want my help any more."

"Don't go," PeeDee quietly implored. "What have you been able to learn?" He looked tired and hopeful, and Connie regretted her outburst.

"It's... not good. They're taking time to gather some forces, and then it sounds like they're going to come and search... everywhere. I think they're just going to guard everyone while they search the entire settlement from top to bottom. She called it an audit."

"Hmm," Ronaldo considered this. (He did not, Connie noticed, thank her or apologise for his comment.)

"Can they do that?" PeeDee asked his brother.

"It sounds... very unusual." He addressed Connie: "Are you _sure_ that's what you heard? What were her precise words?"

"It... They didn't explain the whole thing, I only heard part of the conversation. And I could tell they've discussed it before, my dad's been trying to stop it from happening. But she called it an audit, she said she needed time to get gems and 'robonoids', and she said it'd make people unhappy."

"That could mean a lot of things," Ronaldo pointed out with a modicum of tact.

"She sounded absolutely certain that this would be the end of it. That they'd find her." Connie shrugged. "I'd love to know what else it could mean."

Ronaldo had one hand to his forehead, squinting in deep thought. "It's only that policing of the settlements is meant to be carried out by the peacekeeper with minimal intervention from the Diamond Authority. We know this stuff from our mom," he explained.

PeeDee was quietly incredulous. "I get it, Ronaldo, but do you really put this past them? You know they'd make an exception for the Oracle. All those rules are only for their benefit."

"Well... maybe," Ronaldo conceded. "At least it could mean we still have a little time to plan."

"There's some more I found out, too," Connie continued, "about the settlements. They cycle people in and out of settlements because the populations are too small to sustain themselves. So you were right, the number of people must be much lower than in the old days."

Ronaldo nodded solemnly. "Just as in my theories."

"They've done a lot of research on small populations." She shook her head. "I don't know what to think any more." It was true — her head was spinning with irreconcilable viewpoints. Ronaldo's so-called theories were absurd, yet contained kernels of plausibility that were insidiously compelling.

"I think we need to keep our focus on the Oracle," said PeeDee.

"That's correct," said Ronaldo. "We can't keep the Oracle where she is because we know now that they're not restricting themselves to houses. But I had a brainwave today." He flashed a triumphant grin. "We've missed something important. We know by now Zircon has raided a bunch of houses, with no results. So what do those households have in common?"

Connie tried to remember all of the locations that had been searched, but she didn't know everybody that well and it was difficult to identify a common denominator.

Ronaldo smiled again. "They're all _above suspicion._ Right? They've already been searched, so it's common knowledge that they're innocent."

PeeDee looked dubious. "So you're saying..?"

Ronaldo nodded. "Precisely. We hide her in a house that's already been searched. Lars's house, to pick an example at random. The gems are big on efficiency, so no doubt they'll skip over it even if they do carry out this 'audit'."

Connie appealed to reason. "You can't possibly know that. Besides, why would anybody agree to it?"

"You're not seeing it, though," Ronaldo continued, "they don't have to agree. We can simply sneak into Lars's house — or whoever — when they're not home, and conceal the gemstone somewhere innocuous. It's better for them that way, because if they don't know she's there then they can't incriminate themselves."

Connie was losing patience. "So this person assumes _all_ of the risk without even having any choice in the matter. And I notice you keep bringing up Lars."

"Only as an illustrative example," Ronaldo protested. "It's as valid an option as any," he added, defensively.

"Lars doesn't deserve that. It's completely unfair. And it'll never work, I said they're looking everywhere!"

"You said you _think_ they're looking everywhere."

"And I don't know why you ever brought me in on this if you don't care what I have to say!"

"Guys," PeeDee interrupted. Something in his manner commanded their attention. "Listen: I agree with Connie. It's not a good plan." (Ronaldo looked momentarily crestfallen.) "But we don't have anything else. If we're going to come up with something better, we need to come up with it soon. Like, in the next day or two. We can't leave her up there much longer."

Ronaldo raised an eyebrow. "I'm... _open_ to further suggestions."

"If you're so convinced of your theory," Connie wearily responded, "you should be hiding her in here."

"You're misrepresenting my plan," he haughtily admonished her. "Obviously it wouldn't work here, the Diamond Authority considers me an enemy. PeeDee and I have our own well-being to consider."

"That's it?" Connie asked, stunned. "All your big plans about opposing the Diamond Authority, and when it comes down to it you can only think about protecting yourself?"

"It's precisely _because_ of my plans that I need to protect myself. For the preservation of my knowledge."

"And what about Amethyst? Who's looking out for her well-being? You're going to get her caught."

"I'm doing my level best to protect the Oracle," Ronaldo snapped. "You've yet to offer anything but baseless conjecture and attacks on my good character. If you're really not prepared to take a risk after everything I've shown you, then maybe it's best we part ways. For _your_ safety," he added with mock-chivalry.

"PeeDee?" Connie appealed to her classmate. "You're not going to go along with this?"

PeeDee gesticulated helplessly, hesitant to speak. "I don't know," he managed, "I... I just don't know."

"I'm sorry about what happened to your mom," she addressed them, trying to control her voice, "but you've got the wrong priorities. It's given you this crazy idea about fighting the Diamond Authority, and you know that can't work, right? You must know. I don't know what the solution is, but using Amethyst as a mascot for some imaginary rebellion is just endangering her and everyone in the settlement. You're keeping her locked up like... like a trophy, when it's just made this situation inevitable. I... I think she can be healed, if we just put our heads together and figure out..."

"That won't be happening." Ronaldo glared at her. "Give me back your key."

"...What?" Seeing Ronaldo's expression, she realised too late the danger of reasoning with a madman. She steeled herself. "I don't have it with me."

"Of course not," Ronaldo scoffed. "Hand it over. Our association is at an end."

"I'm serious," Connie retorted, a suppressed rage in her voice. "I hid it. How would it look if I got caught carrying it around?"

"I don't believe you. Turn out your pockets."

PeeDee, still mired in his aura of misery, spoke up. "For goodness' sake, Ronaldo, look at her. She's telling the truth."

"Well then," Ronaldo sneered, not taking his eyes from Connie, "we'll just have to move the Oracle even sooner. And don't worry, we won't be endangering your _friend_ Lars. I won't _burden_ you with the knowledge of where we _really_ take her. You can go back to being a hapless gull of the Diamond Authority."

Connie knew better than to stick around when Ronaldo was being so unreasonable. "Don't worry, I'm leaving! PeeDee, if you have any decency, you'll try and talk some sense into him." She stared back at Ronaldo's impassive visage from the doorway, determined to have the last word. "Good luck with your... stupid potatoes!" she exclaimed, and ran out.

* * *

In the fading light of the settlement, Connie's anger and frustration at the inadequacy of her parting shot rapidly gave way to a quiet despair. There was no way out. In a few days, the gems would sweep the settlement. They would find Amethyst. There would be repercussions against anyone found to have been helping her — and really, how much proof would they demand? Even as she condemned Ronaldo's loss of nerve, she suspected he was too late to save himself. Once they had a hold of Amethyst, there would be no need for any restraint. They could easily round up anyone who had been making waves and ship them off to the other side of the world.

In this fatalistic mood she arrived home, to an immediate interrogation from her parents wanting to know why she was so late.

"We went to the stables and Mr DeMayo said you'd left hours ago. We've been worried sick. Where on earth have you been?"

Ordinarily Connie would have been blindsided by their ire, but in the current situation it barely registered. She gazed back up into their stern faces, her mind still on Amethyst. "I was at Onion's house. Vidalia was showing me some of her paintings and I just lost track of the time."

"Well, that's no excuse," her mother admonished. "You should be more considerate to other people's feelings."

Connie mumbled an apology and submitted to her punishment: supper alone in the dining room, before being sent to bed early. There would be worse to come when they inevitably checked with Vidalia tomorrow and saw through Connie's improvised cover story. Or perhaps Vidalia would look kindly on Connie and play along. Right now, it scarcely seemed to matter either way.


	19. Visions Of The Future

Connie stared at the blackboard, only half paying attention to the teacher. PeeDee had been so late coming in that she'd worried he and Ronaldo were already up at the windmill, smuggling Amethyst to an undisclosed location. As it turned out, PeeDee had walked in just before the start of class, guiltily avoiding eye contact as he took his seat.

"In humankind's earliest days," said Mrs Lezner, "we wandered through the wilderness, hunting and scavenging for enough food to survive, all the while in danger from terrible beasts. It was a precarious existence. There was little shelter, for we always had to keep on the move until we found enough to eat."

There was nothing else for it but to try and get to Amethyst first. And then, if she could find the nerve, she would try and extract the organic regulator from her own body in order to heal the rogue gem. This whole time she'd considered it her last, most desperate option, but time had shown that there simply were no other choices. (At least, none that were morally sustainable. She'd been plagued in the night by intrusive thoughts of forcing Ronaldo to volunteer for the task.)

"We don't know precisely when humans started to cultivate plants themselves instead of only picking what grew naturally, but it brought a revolution in standards of living. Suddenly, we were able to build ourselves permanent shelter. Gathering enough food was no longer a full-time job, which brought opportunities for comfort and leisure. The nomadic ways of our distant ancestors were swiftly abandoned. It was the single most positive step in the development of our species."

She must only do it, Connie had come to understand, if it could be done safely. Even if her short years on earth were as nothing compared to the lifespan of an Amethyst, that was all the more time for some terrible accident to weigh on Amethyst's conscience. Furthermore, she would need to be lucid and well in order to figure out how the gemtech device could actually be used.

"Almost every innovation since those days has brought with it its own downsides. Tools made from metal mined out of the ground made our work easier, but that same metal was forged into weapons. Woodlands were cut down to clear space and build houses, and the landscape was forever harmed. We still enjoy the benefits of progress, but our history bears the scars."

The thing to do, the stark practicality of it, was to make a small incision and sort of... feel around. That was the worst bit, and yet it couldn't be that inherently dangerous, because at this point she would still be under the regulator's protection. Right? The problem only arose at the point of removing it. Then, she would need to know how to care for the wound. Which was a problem, because there hadn't been any doctors for over two hundred years. This was the sticking point, and if she couldn't formulate a convincing plan then the whole scheme would become unworkable.

Wouldn't it? Which was the worse outcome? What did it mean for a gem to be 'harvested'?

Mrs Lezner stepped to her desk and rifled absently through her papers. "Later, the development of trade meant some people didn't need to farm at all. They started to lose their sense of communion with the earth. In a way, humanity's decline was inevitable due to the opportunities brought by the agricultural system. It was in our nature to keep wanting more, digging deeper, building higher. This was the age of cities. It seemed at the time like an age of prosperity, but really it was the beginning of the end."

As always, Pink Diamond's portrait gazed down from its place on the wall, kindly and unassuming.

Mrs Lezner stepped back in front of the blackboard, sifting through a few sheets of paper she had retrieved. "A few weeks ago, I set a writing assignment to look at life as it was without the gems, and I've enjoyed reading through the work from those of you who took the trouble to complete it." At this, she eyed a few of the students with an almost regal solemnity. Then she handed a piece of paper to the girl who always sat in the front row. "Let's hear from a few of them. Here, I'm sure everyone would like to hear your story."

Connie's classmate began her reading after a pause which was either dramatic or nervous. "It was a hard life in the city of Paris Twelve. The Weston family lived in a very small house, and every day they had to give half of their food to help feed the king and his army. Their sons and daughters didn't have time for school because they had to work too. One day, on their way home from the farm, they were attacked by robbers, who took almost all of their food and coins. 'What on earth can we do?' Mr Weston cried. 'We don't have enough left for the king.' Mrs Weston thought long and hard, and said: 'Maybe the king will let us join his army, and our debt will be forgiven.'"

Connie didn't consider herself an expert, but there were aspects of this story which didn't quite tally with her understanding of history. Fortunately, its duration was necessarily limited by the size of the piece of paper it had been written on. In the end, the evil king was killed when Paris Twelve was invaded and taken over by a rival king, but life for the citizens continued in exactly the same way as before. It was, to be fair, an impressively cynical twist.

"Well done," said Mrs Lezner. "Very imaginative. Connie, why don't you come up and read your work? Connie wrote a short piece imagining the future."

Connie was momentarily dumbstruck, having spent the morning so far completely absorbed in her own thoughts. She had almost forgotten the story, which she had hastily written one afternoon before the harvest festival. It was back when she had yet to meet Amethyst, but still had a lot of things on her mind that seemed more important than writing assignments. It had seemed insincere even when she had written it.

Still, she could hardly say no. She stood up and awkwardly made her way to the front, accepting the paper from a smiling Mrs Lezner. She cleared her throat, and read without affect.

"I live in a place called Emerald Town with my parents and my brother and sister.

"They say that years ago, this used to be a desert. They say we learned how to make things grow again from a race of people called gems. Nobody knows for sure who they were, or where they are now, but we remember their lessons every day.

"I have friends in a nearby town called Barley Town. It takes a few hours to ride there in a mechanical vehicle. From their town it's possible to visit a forest with all sorts of creatures, but you have to be careful or you could get lost. Off in the distance is a huge tower where gems used to live. We leave it alone in case they ever want to come back.

"Every town is run by an administrator. The administrator isn't allowed to have any more food or belongings than anyone else. My ambition is to become an administrator, and help keep our society peaceful and fair.

"There is so much more new land in the distance that we could build on, but we are trying our best to use only what we need. It's difficult to overcome our own nature, but I hope that by using what we learned from the gems, we can stay on the right path."

That was all she had written. She handed the paper back to Mrs Lezner, feeling like a hypocrite.

"Very imaginative, Connie," the teacher nodded, smiling. "It makes you want to hear more."

Connie kept her head down as she returned to her seat, not wanting to see the other children's faces and know what they had thought. She imagined them judging her as sycophantic or naive. But the worse possibility, she acknowledged, was that some of them could be taken in by it, and really believe humanity could ever get the planet back. She hadn't wanted to see an expression of hope.

The only one she risked a glance at was PeeDee, who met her eyes briefly with a haunted look. If he had any thoughts about her creative writing, they were eclipsed by more pressing troubles.

* * *

When they broke for lunch, Connie tried to speak to PeeDee in the hubbub. He was quick to make his excuses. "I have to head to the manufactory and help Ronaldo tidy up. You understand."

Connie persisted. "Is Ronaldo still insisting on..?"

PeeDee cut her off. "Look... Mom put Ronaldo in charge. That counts for a lot, even if..." He looked around shiftily. "I can't talk about it here," he concluded, and darted out.

Connie headed outside herself and walked out to the shore until she had a view of the hill at the end of the peninsula. Atop its crest, she could see the sails of the windmill turning. That was a relief. Amethyst would be undisturbed for the time being. Presumably the Frymans really were getting their kitchen back in order. Connie stared out at the tempestuous ocean, resignation damping her anxiety. She had a sense that things were going to play out as they would, regardless of her involvement. Certainly there seemed no point engaging Ronaldo in debate again. Perhaps if she could have a proper talk with PeeDee, but the opportunities were turning up scarce.

She turned on her heel and headed back for the education centre. If she wanted the chance to make a difference, her window of opportunity was narrowing.

Mrs Lezner was halfway through lunch at her desk. "Gosh! You must have been hungry," she said, getting up to open the library upon request. She returned to her meal, leaving Connie to browse unsupervised as usual.

There was only one thing Connie wanted to know. Dragging out the science reference book, she set it down on the table and wondered once again where the other volume was — perhaps in another settlement on the other side of the world? Maybe it had been destroyed. Still, there was no point lamenting its loss — instead she must use lateral thinking. If looking under H for Healing wasn't an option, she could still look under W for Wound.

A minute later, Connie was staring at the close text in horrified fascination. Within a few short paragraphs, she had become acutely aware that she'd had no idea just how debilitating injuries were in the days before the organic regulator. Of course, you read about people dying through violence, but she'd never had its details spelled out in such stark terms.

_A bloody Scab is form'd in the Cavity of the Wound_ ... _the Wound begins to redden, heat, ache and swell_ ... _a Fever and Thirstiness succeed_ ... _on the third or fourth day, there is found a white, viscid Pus_ ...

Connie winced involuntarily. It was beyond her imagination. How could she have been so reckless as to consider risking anything like this?

Among the areas where wounds were generally considered mortal were the heart, lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys... in short, all the vital organs between which the regulator was likely concealed. This, then, was how the Diamond Authority could keep their technology out of human hands even as people walked around with it inside them. Even if you could manage to get at it without damaging an organ, nerve or muscle, you'd be incapacitated for days.

Days! It was an absurd amount of time, when you were so used to the regulator's effects. Connie had never sustained a cut that had bothered her for more than a few minutes.

Each time, she'd taken it for granted.

The **Idea** didn't come from any particular direction, it simply appeared in her mind as if it had always been there. She stared off at nothing as associated thoughts bloomed in her consciousness.

_There are limits to even Pink Diamond's power. The organic regulator is a conduit for her power. The power to heal humanity._

Sure, it seemed manageable now, but how many humans had there been when the gems first took over? Thousands, hundreds of thousands. More still. Just how much power would it have taken? Could every last one of them be protected all of the time, or would a more elegant solution have been required? If Connie's theory was right, then that would mean...

It would mean she had a busy night ahead of her. Unfortunately she would have to finish out the school day before it was possible to put anything into action. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't be productive right now. She slammed the book shut, and marched over to the typesetting machine.

* * *

The afternoon lesson really dragged. Mrs Lezner spent the time outlining the uses and ideal growing conditions for various plants and vegetables, before digressing onto a description of various reputedly useful crops which were not available in the settlement because the seeds had never been imported. On any other day it would actually have been quite interesting, but Connie was anxious to get out and test her hypothesis.

"Some of these figs would only grow in the presence of a special type of bee that didn't produce honey. But we've heard of such trees still existing somewhere, so who knows? One day if you move settlements you could get to try one."

Connie carefully leaned towards PeeDee. "I'll give back the key," she announced in a barely audible whisper.

PeeDee looked surprised, then offered a muted smile of encouragement, as if to show there were no hard feelings. Connie returned the sentiment with a hands-only shrug, to convey the sense that neither of them could help being caught up in this situation and it wasn't worth them falling out for good. (That was her intention, anyway. She wasn't sure how many of the nuances of the gesture would find their mark.)

The main thing was that he and Ronaldo should think she'd given up.

"Poets through history have expressed a love of nature through their art, and we celebrate it in our music to this day. We've discussed how it's the appreciation of art that marks us out as a higher life form. Can anyone tell me what are the purposes of art?"

This kind of abrupt subject change was usually a sign that Mrs Lezner had exhausted her lesson plan and the day was nearing an end. On the other hand, the fact that she was now asking open-ended questions of the fatigued students was a less encouraging sign. Mrs Lezner could become stubborn when she didn't get the response she was hoping for.

"Come on," she insisted. "Think of the people who wrote the books you read, the songs that we sing, painted the paintings on your wall. Why did they do it? What is the purpose of creating something?"

A hand hesitantly went up at the front of the class. "To... entertain us?"

"True enough," said Mrs Lezner, "but in a way that's circular reasoning. These are, by definition, forms of entertainment. The question is, what is it about art that entertains us?" Mercifully, she did not let the silence expand too far before making the question rhetorical. "In some cases, it is simply the artist's demonstration of their own skill. We hear a musician play, and we appreciate the hours of work they have put in. We read a book and marvel at the imagination of the author. But on the other hand, we should pay attention to the message of the book, because this is the other purpose of art — to express the artist's opinion, to advance their point of view."

Connie couldn't help looking at the portrait on the wall once again. Its message: _Pink Diamond is our saviour._

"Connie? Do you have any thoughts on the topic?"

Caught off guard, Connie looked back to the front of the class. It was unclear whether Mrs Lezner had noticed her disengagement or genuinely wanted to know her opinion.

"Um... well... I suppose I think the purpose of art is..."

Mrs Lezner stared expectantly.

"...to achieve immortality."

Mrs Lezner nodded contemplatively. "Interesting. You mean, to create something that can live on after you die?"

"Not just any something," Connie continued. "Something of yourself. Like you said, a book can contain your thoughts and opinions. It's a part of your mind that can stay on and communicate with people in the future. We need something like that, because we don't have that continuous link with history like gems do."

Her teacher nodded contemplatively. "So you see it as a way of communing with other generations. That's an interesting point. The love of art is our main point of commonality with the gems, but... hmm." She frowned slightly. "That would mean we weren't truly engaging with it in the same way as them. Is that what you think?" She appeared troubled by the idea.

Connie shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe."

"I'd have to... well, I'd have to think about that." Mrs Lezner blinked a few times, seeming to have lost all momentum. "I think that's as opportune a moment as any to end the lesson. Have a good evening and I'll see you all tomorrow."

Connie turned her attention from Mrs Lezner as the other students began to gather their things, and was faced with the sight of PeeDee staring at her as if she had just performed an impossible magic trick. Abruptly, he turned away and joined the melange of students making their way to the exit.

Connie herself lingered in the atrium, listening at the door to her mom's classroom and trying to judge, by the muffled sounds from within, how close they were to the end of the lesson. It sounded as if the lecture was still in full flow, so she ran out for a few minutes to check on the windmill. It was still in use, but who knew for how long? Anxious, she returned to her vigil and waited.

After a few minutes, Mrs Lezner emerged from the other classroom on her way out. "Good night, Connie," she said on her way past, accustomed to seeing the girl waiting for her mother.

Shortly, Mrs Maheshwaran's voice rose and became momentarily more distinct — something about 'very disappointing progress today'? Finally, things drew to a conclusion and the door opened, the older kids filing out. Most of them paid Connie no regard, but Kiki made eye contact on her way past and gave a brief grimacing smile. Connie wasn't entirely sure what it meant. Perhaps a moment of solidarity with another individual dwelling in the shadow of a particularly forthright parent? Connie would still choose her mom over Mr Pita, though.

She stepped into the doorway before the door could fully close, rapping quietly on the door as she entered the classroom. "Good afternoon, Mom. I need to finish some work in the library. Is it fine if I use your key?"

Priyanka looked up from her desk. "Good afternoon, Connie." She absently reached for the key, her gaze already drawn back to her lesson notes. "Will you be long? I don't want you to be late for dinner again."

"Not terribly long, I don't think. It depends on how quickly I can find the right book." She needed to manage her mom's expectations without being too specific. "I'll certainly be out before dark."

"Oh..." — Mrs Maheshwaran handed over the key — "I may be finished before you, then. Be a good girl and lock up the building if I've already left."

Connie nodded formally. "I will. Thanks, mom."

She made her way to the library and quietly shut herself in. Unfolding the rumpled letter from her pocket, she carefully fed it back into the typesetting machine, determined to conclude her missive. It was unfortunate that she'd not had more time to get her thoughts in order, but it was looking as if she wouldn't have another opportunity beyond today. It was fortunate, and to her mom's credit, that however stern she might be she never restricted Connie's access to the library. It was the result of a sincere belief in the value of education, although Connie wondered how unshakeable her mom's beliefs would be if she knew precisely what Connie had learned since moving to settlement B1C7.

She focused on not making any mistakes as she lined up the wheels of the device. As it was, the text might not be perfect due to her having learned how to use the machine as she went along. Alongside this difficulty, she never felt entirely sure when it was or wasn't appropriate to capitalise nouns. Still, it was important not to introduce stupid mistakes as she concluded her thoughts.

She briefly moved over to the bookshelves when she heard movement in the adjacent room, but her mother did not enter the library. There was the sound of a door shutting, and Connie assumed she was now alone in the building.

She needed to get moving, but there was still the matter of signing her letter. She'd known from the start she wouldn't put her real name to it, but what would be an appropriate substitute? Maybe a stylish nom de plume? Not some clever anagram which could lead back to her, and negate the purpose of taking the time to draft it in such an anonymous medium. Perhaps there was some evocative historical or literary character she could name herself after, impudently shielded by inverted commas. But this, too, could tie it to influences unique to her life.

In the end, she decided to describe herself in bland and factual terms. A few minutes later the work was complete, and she carefully retrieved the paper that had already seen better days. She examined the completed work, its lettering blotchy at points but legible throughout.

_It scarcely matters,_ she told herself in a moment of sudden negativity. _The chances are that nobody will ever read it._

* * *

Hurrying out, she locked first the door to the library and then the building itself as she went outside. The sun was still over the horizon but the evening was growing cool. As casually as possible, she made her way over to the boardwalk.

There were still people out and about, especially here where food was being served. Connie would have liked nothing more than to make her way straight to the windmill, but she dared not risk making the journey while she could still be spotted, perhaps even by somebody who would report back to Ronaldo.

Instead she continued to her destination at the Frymans' kitchen door, where she was mildly vexed to find Buck Dewey already leaning on the opening, showing no signs that he was planning on leaving soon. In one hand he held a small bag of salted potato sticks — clearly the kitchen was back up and running.

"It's important to show this kind of support at times like these," he said, still facing the manufactory interior with a wry half-smile. "I heard the place was in quite a mess."

"We had some friends help clean up," came PeeDee's voice from within.

"That's nice of them," Buck nodded slowly. "Of course, it's one thing to help out behind closed doors, and another thing to come out in public and support the kitchen by accepting your food."

"You're a generous soul, Buck." There wasn't a trace of inflection in PeeDee's voice.

"Well, I know people look to me as the son of the civic leader. Rightly or wrongly, my patronage means a lot."

"Thanks for patronising us, Buck."

Buck grinned. "I don't see why people should stay away. Nothing was found. And that business from a few months back is all in the past. I was sorry to hear how that all turned out, by the way."

PeeDee was losing patience. "Looks like I have another customer," he said pointedly. By this point Connie had approached close enough to see his face, partially obscured by the half-door which was still slightly too high for him.

Buck turned to face Connie with no trace of surprise. He'd probably had her in his peripheral vision from the start. "Connie Maheshwaran, in the flesh. I'm sure you'd know better than most that the Frymans have done nothing we should be worried about."

For a moment she thought he knew something about their failed alliance. Then, her mind caught up. "My dad never talks to me about work stuff," she recited.

"Sure," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Neither does mine." His smile had taken on a strained, vaguely unpleasant quality.

Connie couldn't resist needling him. "I'm sure all of our parents are very professional," she said mildly.

Buck stopped slouching on the door and stood over Connie, looking down appraisingly. "Now, when are you coming to join us in the senior grade? I hear you're an accomplished scholar."

Connie glanced anxiously at the doorway, to no avail. "I've not been in a hurry," she told Buck. "It's hard enough getting used to living in a new settlement, so I look upon it as taking a break."

Buck nodded seriously. "Maybe that's wise," he said. "But at some point, you've got to get on and live life. Can't stay young forever."

"Youth is a primitive, human concept," Connie argued. "Maybe I don't accept that age confers wisdom."

Buck was smiling again. "You could be right. But it doesn't matter what value you place on these years. Soon they'll be gone, and you'll have to make the most of what time you've got left. We all will," he added, stuffing a handful of potato sticks into his mouth. "See you soon," he addressed Connie and PeeDee in between bites. Then, he turned on his heel and ambled off down the boardwalk.

Connie waited until he was beyond earshot. "I thought he'd never leave," she sighed, stepping up to the door. PeeDee was currently manning the kitchen alone. "Where's Ronaldo and your dad?"

"Dad went out to pick up some wood for repairs. Ronaldo's still trying to tidy up in the basement." He looked back through the kitchen, raising his voice. "I'm hoping he comes back up before it gets busy!"

"You're expecting business as usual? Buck seemed to be implying..."

"Eh, Buck's harmless," PeeDee interrupted. "He just likes the sound of his own voice. Nobody's bothered that we got hit by the gems — they must have hit half the settlement by now."

"Oh, that's good," Connie said. "I mean... well, you know what I mean."

PeeDee carefully regarded her. "Did you come here for food?" he prompted.

Connie reached into her pocket for her mom's key. Maintaining eye contact with PeeDee, she took his hand and placed the key in his palm. PeeDee dropped it in a pocket of his apron, recoiling slightly at the intensity of her manner. It had worked, though, in that he hadn't examined the key closely.

"Will you tell Ronaldo?" she asked. "Tell him I'm out, and I won't get in your way. You know I won't talk to anyone, because I'd get in just as much trouble myself."

PeeDee nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "Here," he said before she could leave. He dipped a perforated ladle into a shallow pan, retrieving some chunks of fried vegetable. "Take some wedges. Just to say no hard feelings. And because... well, just because." He bagged the still-hot potato wedges and sprinkled some herbs on the top.

"Thanks." Connie accepted the bag, its aroma making her very aware she had skipped lunch. She took the long way home, enjoying the snacks as the evening breeze brought them to a bearable temperature. She observed Mr Smiley leaving the bakery with a fresh loaf, and others en route to the boardwalk for dinner. The windmill had stopped turning, but this was no guarantee it was deserted. There was no choice but to wait until the streets were empty of prying eyes. She was by this point walking in the shadow of the hills inland, and hurried to finish her wedges so she could get home on time.

The idea was that, believing her to no longer have access to the windmill, the Frymans would postpone their plans until another day. (With any luck, it would not occur to them to compare keys.) What she hadn't fully thought through was how she would get away with no longer having her mom's key to the education centre. Necessity being the mother of invention, she had considered it better to simply give it away and hope for the best.

* * *

Both of her parents were already home, at work in the kitchen. Her dad was preparing some vegetables for the evening meal, while her mom washed the modest crop of carrots they had recently brought in from the allotment. Connie offered a perfunctory greeting, then ran upstairs to her room to offload her coat. On her way back down, she stepped carefully down the stairs, attempting to refamiliarise herself with the creakiest boards.

The ingredients prepared, her dad was by now doing some washing up. Connie tried to linger unobtrusively, but soon found herself roped in to helping with menial kitchen tasks — drying a chopping board, laying out cutlery and so forth. In a way, she welcomed the diversion.

Her mom came in to inspect her progress in laying the table. "When you've done that, could you fill some water glasses?"

Connie nodded earnestly. "Certainly."

Midway through turning to leave, Mrs Maheshwaran checked herself and leaned back into the room. "Before I forget, do you have my key?"

"Oh, it was in my jacket pocket," Connie responded, failing to suppress a ball of tension in her core. "It'll be in my room now."

Her mom appeared to take this in stride. "I see."

Uncertainly, and without knowing why, Connie pushed her luck. "Do you... need it now..?"

A moment passed. Then, Priyanka shook her head. "As long as you haven't lost it," she said. "There are some knives that need drying when you've done the water."

The kitchen was oddly quiet as her parents worked on dinner. Connie wondered whether they both knew about the upcoming audit. Would her dad have shared this information? Quite possibly, but there was no way to tell. If it was behind the lack of conversation, then it was either because he didn't want to give anything away, or because they both didn't. Could it be that all three of them were bound to silence by this Damoclean threat?

The centrepiece of the meal was a chicken leg, the unfortunate fowl having breathed its last and been subsequently divided up between several families. To accompany it, they each had a cob of maize and some root vegetables which had been mashed up and folded in with spices. It smelled good, and Connie concluded that her appetite had not been spoiled by PeeDee's gift.

With the food dished out they settled at the dining table. For a while, there was only the clink of cutlery against plates. After a few minutes, Connie's dad broke the silence.

"It's official," he announced. "We're applying for a subsidy this winter."

"Hmm." Priyanka rested her fork on the table. "How much are they asking for?"

"I believe it's thirty fruits per household."

Connie looked from one parent to the other. "That's not too bad, is it? It doesn't sound like that much of a shortfall, for the whole winter."

"Well," her dad equivocated, "that's the figure Mr Dewey's putting forward. The next step will be that they'll come and inspect our stores to see if it's realistic."

Connie nodded in understanding. The synthetic fruit were dense in nutritional content, and a person could comfortably live out a day on just two or three of them. A seemingly modest subsidy could still reflect a significant failure in local production. It was conceivable that Mr Dewey might err on the side of prudence in his interpretation of the figures, but people needed to eat.

Her mom sighed abruptly. "It's been disappointing to find they're having trouble here too."

"What will happen..." — Connie made sure to phrase it as a hypothetical — "if all of the settlements run out of farmable land?"

"That shouldn't happen," her mom intoned. "And regardless, the Diamond Authority would provide for us."

"That'd be it, though, wouldn't it? We'd be a kept species, relying on them forever."

"There are worse fates," Priyanka murmured, cutting off a piece of chicken.

Connie remembered what Lars had said the first time she met him. "I heard someone say once that things should be done that way anyway. Since we already rely on them to survive."

Doug paused from agitating at a piece of food caught in his teeth. "I think it's healthier to live the way that we do and have that feeling of independence."

"But it is just a feeling, isn't it?" Connie persisted. "In the end, we have to do whatever they say."

"We don't _have_ to," Mrs Maheshwaran pointed out. "But it would hardly be sensible to stir up trouble. Don't forget that the gems gain nothing from looking after us. Why would we want to make it more difficult for them?"

"I don't know," Connie muttered. "It's just been difficult, adjusting to the move. It's made me think about stuff."

"That's only natural," her father sympathetically assured her. "Sometimes things come out of the blue and it can be hard to deal with. It's best to just... put it behind you, and carry on as best you can."

"That's right," Priyanka agreed. "It's a natural part of growing up. Overcoming those doubts is just a part of life."

It had never really occurred to Connie before that her parents knew there was something unfair about Diamond Authority rule. They just pushed past it and carried on because everyone was reliant on the gems for subsistence. Did they even realise that they knew? Maybe everyone came to this understanding sooner or later, and lived out the rest of their lives in a conspiracy of silence, because it was better not to admit it to themselves or each other.

She felt a little bad for having pushed the subject. In their own way, her parents were trying to protect her, and it couldn't make them feel good to witness the slow death of her naivety.

"This is a nice meal," she said. It was true — the chicken had not died in vain.

"It is," her mom agreed.

"See," Doug grinned, "we can get by just fine for ourselves most of the time."

"I wouldn't trade being organic for anything," Connie smiled. "You get to eat delicious food."

"I'll drink to that." They clinked their glasses together, and for a few minutes the Diamond Authority was banished from the room.


	20. Covenant Of Protection

Later, Connie lay in bed fully dressed. She was waiting for her parents to go to sleep so she could sneak out. She had opened her curtains, and the moon shone in to illuminate her bookshelves. There were still titles she had yet to even take off the shelf — some of them because they seemed less interesting to her, but beyond that she simply didn't want to exhaust her potential reading material too quickly. Even with the availability of the library, these here were the books that would sustain her over years to come. Supposing, of course, that it was her fate to remain here.

Once the sounds of murmured conversation from her parents' room had ceased, Connie waited some more. When at last she felt enough time had passed, she crept out from under the covers and checked her pockets. Stepping to the door, she pulled it open slowly and carefully. She then crouched outside the room closing the door just as laboriously, her eyes shut tight to pre-emptively adjust to the darkness.

All was quiet in the stairwell, and in the stillness of the house she could hear the ticking of the clock from the open door of the drawing room. Using the bannister as a spacial anchor, she counted her way down the stairs.

In the hallway, she sat on the bottom step to pull on her shoes. Her breathing was measured and her every movement slow and deliberate, as if she were under water. She had decided, in the end, not to use the front door. Going out via the allotment would put more space between her point of egress and her sleeping parents.

The streets of B1C7 were empty, with the distant rumble of the ocean faintly audible through the silence. Connie darted from building to building, conscious that she could be visible to some insomniac at their bedroom window. She weaved her way through the settlement in a more or less direct route to the hill of the peninsula.

Tonight was her final chance. By tomorrow, the trick with the keys would land her in trouble no matter what. She pulled her coat about herself as she emerged from the buildings and was exposed to the winds coming in from the beach. Moonlight tipped a parabola of waves facing Connie. She found the ocean fascinating — there was an inexorable pull to the treacherous black waters that simultaneously warned you away. Beyond the darkened windows of the bakery, she carefully climbed the gate to the fenced-off area leading to the windmill.

Roughly speaking, the **Idea** ran as follows: perhaps the organic regulator contained a portion of Pink Diamond's power within it, or perhaps it was a medium through which the power was somehow transmitted externally. Either way, for it to be active throughout a human's entire lifespan would require a tremendous amount of power. It was only recently that she had come to see that gems might be just as fallible as people. This had brought with it the realisation that protecting the thousands of conquered humans at all hours of the day might have been too much even for the almighty Pink Diamond. So, what if the regulator were instead to remain dormant until it detected a source of harm, and only then draw upon its mysterious power source? If this were the case, it would mean Connie could activate its healing properties at will.

In a hollow in the land she found a cluster of sleeping goats. To one side, the warped horn of Connie Junior turned up as the creature shifted its weight. Lying against it were...

"Oh my goodness," Connie exclaimed in a whisper, "you're a parent!" A pair of kids nestled against the dormant beast.

Connie considered this. "I guess from now on I have to call you Connie Junior _Senior_."

Heartened by this display of unfettered biology, she continued resolutely up the hill, stepping through shrubs and thistles. Distant stars vanished one by one behind the imposing structure of the windmill as she drew near. Up close it was possible to hear the sails straining against the wind, over the sound of waves crashing on the cliffs below. Reaching the steps, she found a welcome respite from the breeze in the lee of the structure.

The door opened with a creak and Connie stepped into the darkened mill. For a moment, the wind changed direction and the door funnelled a violent gust into the building, buffeting Connie's coat against her. It would be best to close the door, but it was hard enough to see anything in the gloom. Before anything else, she needed to find that portable waxlight.

Connie froze in shock as she heard a noise inside the room.

She couldn't identify what she'd heard. It had been a brief, sharp report — possibly metallic. She stood absolutely still as she tried to figure out where the sound had come from.

_Clink._ There it was again. She didn't dare make a sound, turning her eyes to the various indistinct shapes that made up the grist mill. The sound was quieter than she had at first thought, but in the dark stillness of night it was deeply concerning.

_Clink._ It was coming from somewhere above her. Looking up, she saw a square patch of ceiling that was darker than its surrounding planks. Like an optical illusion it suddenly resolved itself into a trapdoor leading to the upper floors, and she realised she could see what was hanging down from above: a looped chain, used for lifting bulky objects upstairs. Set into almost imperceptible motion by the movement of air from outside, the links were knocking against one another in a slow rhythm.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

Connie let out the breath she had been holding, and with it a burst of silent, hysterical laughter. Her heart was racing. By now accustomed to the darkness, she located the detachable waxlight, and wasted no time in lighting it so she could dispel the darkness and with it her nervous thoughts. Next, she opted to shut the door before it could introduce any more troubling noises. With the room rendered familiar once more, she felt secure in making her way downstairs.

She was reluctant to try the door in case she found it unlocked and the room empty. It would be unbearable to find out all at once. Instead she rapped gently yet insistently on the wood.

"It's Connie," she announced in a loud whisper. Then, realising there was no reason to be so quiet, she repeated herself at a normal speaking volume. "It's Connie. May I come in?"

After a moment's worrying silence, there was a sound of movement from within. "Just a sec," came Amethyst's voice. Moments later, the key scraped in the lock and the door swung open.

"Thank goodness," Connie gushed, "you're still here!"

Amethyst wore an expression of genuine puzzlement. "Uh, yeah. You caught me just before my daily outing to go somersaulting through the town streets. Where else was I gonna be?"

"Sorry," Connie sighed, "there's been a lot going on that I haven't told you about. You can decide for yourself whether that was wrong. But it's also why I'm here now." Realising that the significance of this statement probably wasn't clear, she elaborated: "It's, uh, the middle of the night."

"Ooh, breaking curfew! Me likey. Well, come on in."

Predictably, nothing had changed in Amethyst's room. Connie went to set the waxlight down upon a crate, and crossed the room to light its counterpart on the wall. Twin shadows flickered in opposite directions from Amethyst, who had perched upon her stool.

The diminutive gem turned from side to side, trying to triangulate Connie's location. "So, uh, what's the big news that couldn't wait?"

Connie wondered for a moment how much to tell her. "Well, for one thing, the Diamond Authority is closing in. Which I guess we already told you? But it's serious now."

Amethyst was sceptical. "Sounded _pretty_ serious before."

"It's so serious," Connie continued, "that we've come to a fundamental disagreement over what we should do next. I'm afraid Ronaldo and I have fallen out."

"Pssh, humans and their little dramas. Is he that guy who talks more than he listens?"

It didn't feel like a time for diplomacy. "Yeah, kind of. He's come up with a plan which I'm convinced will backfire and get you caught."

Amethyst sighed. "I've been living on borrowed time for thousands of years. There's no such thing as a foolproof plan, believe me. You might want to cut the guy a little slack, you guys's lives are so short to spend them fighting with each other."

"I... guess that's a valid point," Connie conceded. In failing to find common ground, perhaps she herself had become an exemplar of humanity's flaws. On the other hand, Ronaldo was clearly wrong and refused to listen to reason, so it was easy to see both sides of this point. "My behaviour may have been a bit... human, at times, but only because so much is at stake. I couldn't forgive myself if you came to harm because I failed to do enough to help."

"Oh!" Amethyst looked somewhat abashed. "That's nice, but I'm sure you've done plenty. So what's your idea, if you didn't like Romaldo's?"

"Well. Um." Connie looked around. "I don't really like to say. I mean, I don't want to give you a false idea of... I mean, I'm just scared of tempting fate."

"You're making less sense than usual," Amethyst complained. "Give me a clue at least?"

Connie collected herself. "Instead of telling you, is it all right if I show you?" She went back over to the wall where the disused tools were hanging, and collected the blade intended for discorporating Amethyst.

"You can try," Amethyst smirked, "but I'm not much of a visual learner. What are you doing?"

"Just, um, hold still, please. Everything's fine, I just need to..."

What Connie needed was to focus. It was one thing to formulate her plan, but to carry it out meant ignoring her own most fundamental instincts. She held the knife in her right hand, wincing in anticipation. Then, before she could change her mind, she jabbed its tip into her left palm and scored a line across it.

At first she felt nothing, and assumed she hadn't pressed hard enough. But moments later, the line expanded outward with a dark red ooze, and her hand resonated with a stinging pain. As quickly as possible, she clamped the bloody palm to Amethyst's damaged gem, engendering a startled exclamation.

"Sorry!" Connie kept her hand in place, waiting for the throbbing ache to subside. "I just have to, uh, do this. For a little while."

"Uhh... this is weird," Amethyst pointed out.

Connie could feel each heartbeat wracking her wounded palm. Memories of a hundred scraped knees when she was a young child playing unaccompanied. As then, she found herself gradually numbed to the unpleasant sensations until the pain finally dissipated, leaving only a memory of itself. She pulled her hand away, flexing it cautiously. Underneath the drying blood, the skin was by now unbroken. Heedless of the effect on her sleeve, she swiftly wiped it across Amethyst's stained gemstone, cleaning it off as best she could.

When she saw that the hairline fracture in the gem was no longer there, she didn't know what to think. She was suddenly aware that the greater part of her mind had never really accepted that this could work, and was consequently at a loss how to react.

It was Amethyst who broke the silence. "I feel... what is this?"

Connie looked into the gem's face. Amethyst gave a shudder of effort and, in a display which was not entirely pleasant to look at, the pupils of her eyes came into view from beyond her upper eyelids, settling into position almost as if the eyeballs had been turned the wrong way round all these centuries.

She blinked a few times, squinting hard. Then she stared at Connie in pure amazement.

"You did it." It was half a question, half a statement. The gem looked down at herself and climbed off her seat, stretching her limbs. "You did it?"

She brought her hands forward in an arc to grab Connie's upper arms. "You did it!" She laughed, almost hysterical. "You did it! What did you do!?"

Connie gave a nervous smile. "Ta-dah," she said, and suddenly found that her eyes were wet with tears which she had to blink away.

Amethyst, taut with excitement, began jumping up and down on the spot, lifting Connie with her. She took them on a bunny-hopping circuit of the room, laughing all the while, until Connie could do nothing else but join in.

Suddenly the gem released her grip on Connie's shoulders, and cartwheeled over to her straw pile. Connie took a turn to sit on the stool, her head spinning.

"So." Amethyst thrust her arms out as if halting intruders on both sides, businesslike. "Let me check. How many fingers am I holding up?" She brought her right hand in, brandishing three fingers in front of her own face. "Three. Good."

Next, her hand shot out and, in an uncanny trick of perspective, went straight past Connie to the other side of the room while Amethyst herself stood still. The elongated arm plucked the waxlight which Connie had set down on her arrival, and reeled it back in to Amethyst. "That's working too," she grinned intensely. Then, distracted, she turned over the waxlight in her hands, inspecting it. "Huh. So that's what they look like."

Shaking her head, she threw the device down into the straw where it landed with a clank. "Wow, they really are safer."

Changing focus again, she bounded in to where Connie was sitting, staring at her with benevolent curiosity. "Looks like my fashion choices are a few hundred years out of date," she commented. Then, her entire body flashed a bright white, altering rapidly in stature. When it faded a moment later to its usual palette, Connie found that she was looking at her own doppelganger, rendered in shades of purple and with Amethyst's gem still embedded at collar-bone height.

Amethyst grinned impishly through Connie's face. "My name's Connie and I'm a genius, apparently," she sang. Then, just as quickly, she resumed her own form. "Bwah hah! Everything works. I can't believe everything works! I can't believe you fixed me!"

"Honestly," Connie said, her voice weak, "I can't quite believe it either."

"How?" Amethyst insisted. "How did you do it?"

"Well... that'd be telling." Unsure what she'd unleashed, Connie chose discretion for the time being.

"Playing your cards close, huh?" Amethyst gave her an appraising look, but was apparently too caught up in the situation to bother pressing the matter. She took to pacing the room, switching rapidly between numerous animal forms, not all of which Connie could identify. "I can finally be free. I can run through the forests and fly over the mountains." In a confusing display, she was suddenly a Zircon, the Amethyst gem still embedded paradoxically in her torso. "I could even rejoin gem society! Those dummies won't know what hit them," she fiercely intoned, switching between the forms of several different types of gem — again, many of which Connie was unfamiliar with.

"Will you be all right?" Connie asked. "Will you be able to avoid getting caught?"

Amethyst, resuming her own shape, gave a low, bitter laugh. "Oh, believe me. After last time? No way. No way do they get me twice."

Connie gave an encouraging smile. "I thought so. That's good. You should go as soon as you can. I'd leave tonight, if I were you."

Amethyst gave a quizzical look, and Connie briefly outlined what she had heard about Zircon's audit.

"So..." Amethyst concluded, "this is it?" She looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. "Wow, what a depressing hole. Still, I've had worse rooms." With a wistful smile, she turned her attention back to Connie. "What about you guys? Will you be all right here?"

"Maybe. I think maybe with you gone, Zircon won't have anything left to hold over us. I don't know for sure." Connie shrugged. "What I do know is, we don't have to keep you here to be able to pass on what you've told us. It'll be more of a help for me to know you're out there, somewhere. Doing whatever you like."

Amethyst was decisive. "I'd like to find out if there are more gems like me," she said. "Whether I can do anything to help."

"If you go looking in other settlements," Connie suggested, "you could see how many there are, and how big. Find out what happened to the cities."

"Maybe I could catch up to that Prasiolite that had to run her mouth off to an Agate when I forgot to be tall enough." Amethyst made a fist and drove it vindictively into her other hand. "Really get _reacquainted._" She seemed to be talking to herself, but then turned her attention back to Connie. "Hey, so listen, little Miss Trade Secrets! You should stay safe so that if I ever meet someone who needs their gem fixing, I could bring them back here."

"Of course," Connie agreed, "I'd be honoured." The decision not to reveal her method was reinforced by the prospect of one day meeting Amethyst again and learning what had been happening. (Also, she had a vague trepidation about letting it be generally known how the organic regulator was activated.)

Having run a gamut of emotions, Amethyst smiled helplessly at Connie. "Thanks, Connie. I'll never forget this. I must have forgotten hundreds of humans, but I'll always remember your name. I only wish I could do something to pay you back."

"Well," Connie said, "there might be something."

She stood up and rummaged in her pocket to retrieve her tatty sheet of paper, and held it out to Amethyst.

"When you get to where gems are, and if it's safe, could you try and find a way to get this to Pink Diamond?"

Amethyst unfolded the paper, which read:

> DEAR PINK DIAMOND,
> 
> I regret that my letter must be anonymous as I fear Reprisal against  
myself or my family. I wish to report certain Injustices being carried  
out in your name, not least, the persecution of gems deemed 'defective'  
by members of your Authority. In addition to this, Humans have been  
removed from their homes without due explanation or as punishment.
> 
> For centuries we have worked the land in accordance with Gem law, yet it  
appears the condition of our soil is worsening and (inasfar as I can  
tell) the number and size of Settlements is diminishing. I fear for the  
future of my race if this continues.
> 
> I ask you to consider that you are being misled by your Advisors, and  
act to remedy these matters. If this is not the case, then I beseech  
that you clarify how these facts can be reconciled with the Covenant  
of protection under which we live.
> 
> I remain your humble servant,  
A Concerned Citizen

She stared at the letter for a few moments, before looking back to Connie. "Still haven't stopped changing your alphabet, I see."

"Uh, sorry." Connie gestured toward the paper. "I can tell you what it says, if..."

"No need," Amethyst waved her off. "I've got the gist and I can figure the rest out. So you want me to hand this over to Pink Diamond, eh?"

"You don't have to do it in person if it's not safe. Maybe you could find someone who'll take it for you. I don't know how these things work."

"I'll do my best," Amethyst declared, nobly crumpling the letter into her robes. "Now if you don't mind, I'd be happier if I never spent another minute in this room."

"Of course." Connie retrieved her light from the floor, and led the way out and up the stairs. Amethyst looked around with interest at the machinery in the mill, but was instantly distracted when Connie opened the door. She barged past Connie to grab the railing at the top of the steps, straightening her arms until she had lifted herself off the floor.

"That's where you live?" she asked, looking down on the moonlit settlement.

"That's B1C7," Connie confirmed. "I'm... over toward the back there."

"Huh." Amethyst vaulted the railing and dropped down to the ground. Then, before Connie could catch up, the gem leapt upwards in a tremendous bound that landed her on top of the windmill itself.

Connie squinted up at the silhouetted building, but couldn't see where her companion had gone. She walked around the structure's circumference, listening out for any sign.

Halfway round, Amethyst dropped from the sky with an almighty thud. She'd paid Connie enough mind not to collide with her, but the greater part of her attention was focused on the distant horizon.

"What's going on with the ocean?" she asked.

"Uh, it's..." Connie didn't know what was required. "Nothing much? The usual... ocean stuff?"

Amethyst stared disbelievingly out to sea. "This is normal?" She shook her head and gave a brief, mirthless laugh. "There's something wrong. This **isn't** normal."

"I've only been here for a few months," Connie apologised. "What should it be like?"

"That's just weird," Amethyst mused, all but ignoring Connie. "The size of those waves? Looks like the storm to end all storms, but it just isn't." She waved her hand vaguely in the wind. "Something _huge_ must be causing that."

They gazed in silence at the expanse of ocean, and Connie wondered if there was anything else unusual about her environment that she was lacking the contextual knowledge to recognise. "Do you think it's because of the Authority?" she asked.

Amethyst nodded thoughtfully. "I think it probably is."

There didn't seem to be much more to say about it. Together, they strolled back round the windmill to the side overlooking the settlement. Connie tried to pick out individual buildings in the darkness.

"Back when you worked as an oracle," she asked Amethyst, "where did you used to live?"

"Place called Hellas," Amethyst said. "In Europe," she added, seeing the blankness on Connie's face.

Connie contemplated this. "I don't even know which continent we're on."

"Well..." Amethyst paused. "You know what planet you're on. That's something, right?"

Connie laughed. "I think I'm just going to tell everybody," she said. "I'm tired of keeping secrets."

"Tell them what?"

"About you. About the Diamond Authority. All of it. If we don't need to worry about hiding you any more, then why tiptoe around it?"

"In my experience, humans have a complicated relationship with the truth. But don't let me stop you."

Connie turned to Amethyst. "If you do visit any other settlements, could you tell them as well? Let them know everything you told me and the others."

"Sure," Amethyst shrugged.

"Oh," Connie realised, "and be careful when you leave the settlement. There are these flying things that look for you — though I don't know if they just work on humans."

Amethyst smiled grimly. "Never mind wandering the land like some questing pilgrim. There's a warp pad right near here, right? If I'm travelling, I'm travelling in style."

"Well... you will be careful, won't you? That sounds dangerous."

"You're just jealous you haven't got a ticket." Amethyst winked, tapping her gem.

"At least make sure you don't look conspicuous." Connie indicated Amethyst's white garb. "You're the only Amethyst I've ever seen dressed like _that_."

"Very funny. I'll have you know these robes were the epitome of style when I selected them. Forgive me if I like to look distinguished." She grinned as Connie rolled her eyes. "Does _this_ meet your standards?" There was a flash of light and Amethyst was suddenly taller, broader and wearing a similar uniform to those Amethysts that Connie had seen on routine business.

"Very nice," Connie nodded, impressed. "I'd certainly never guess you were a secret human-sympathising agent."

Amethyst suddenly looked serious. "You jest, but I've had more sympathy from humans than I have from gems in my time on this earth. So if it comes down to picking a side, I know what my choice would be." She posed ostentatiously. "Now if there's nothing else, I'd like to get out there and see things for myself."

Lost for words, Connie threw her arms round Amethyst in a hug. Taken aback, Amethyst reverted to her own size to reciprocate. Then, she transformed into a large cat-like creature with sleek purple fur and a long, swishing tail. "Catch you later," she said, and darted off down the hill at startling speed.

"Take care, Amethyst!" Connie shouted.

The receding figure of the transformed gem suddenly leapt up into the air, where it changed shape again to a large bird, gliding off into the distance. For a moment Connie fancied that it had waved one of its wings in acknowledgement. She peered after the distant shape until it could no longer be distinguished in the darkness. Then, smiling, she sat down on the ground against the windmill steps. The hard soil was ice-cold against her wrists, but it was good to feel like a part of her surroundings.

She gazed up at the night sky. Maybe the letter would get to Pink Diamond, maybe it wouldn't. The chance was enough. She only regretted that there was no way to send it to the Pink Diamond that existed in the official portraits.

A single wisp of cloud was passing in front of the moon. Connie could sense some difficult conversations in her near future. First, she would need to tell the truth to her parents. Then she would let the Fryman boys know what she had done. She idly wondered who would be angriest.

It didn't really matter. What mattered was that Connie had achieved what nobody had been able to accomplish in hundreds of years. Maybe thousands. She had subverted the injustice that had been done to Amethyst, and done so using the very tools of the system that had oppressed her. This one good deed would sustain Connie. Whatever came next, she knew she could regard her life as well-lived. She would sleep well tonight.

The cloud finished its transit and the way was illuminated once more. Connie thought she saw a purple speck on the horizon, but knew it was probably her imagination. Wondering whether she would ever see the Oracle again, she climbed to her feet, dusted off her hands, and commenced her unsteady journey down the hill towards home.


	21. Epilogue

Bathed in cold sunlight, beyond the scope of any human viewing apparatus, a domed tower pierced the moon.

Atop her angular throne, Pink Diamond sat surrounded by opulence. Sculptures and paintings depicted her form, the centrepiece a large canvas immortalising the matriarchal gem in oils. The artist had portrayed her with a knowing, almost casual smile, seated behind the same console that she occupied now, and although the portrait was centuries old, Pink Diamond looked no different today than she had done when it was painted.

Right now, however, Pink Diamond was not smiling. She listened with impatience as explanations were relayed to her through a crystalline communications device.

"They've had more than a hundred cycles to come up with a new excuse," she spoke into the receiver. "It's no wonder Yellow didn't contact me directly, if that's the best she could do."

As the small voice on the other end quavered through this new diplomatic minefield, Pink Diamond's limited retinue watched her expression, trying to read the mood.

The Pearl knelt in repose at Pink Diamond's side, looking up at her with silent concern. Across the dome, a human sat among a collection of musical instruments. His skin was an unnatural shade of pink, his hair an unnatural white. He observed the one-sided conversation with detached interest.

"You can tell Yellow Diamond that nothing has changed. I am sticking to the timeline we agreed in the first place, as I have been all along. They're the ones holding things up with the completion of the Habitat. They do **not** get to blame it on me."

The other participant in the conversation attempted a response, but was swiftly interrupted.

"You forget your position," Pink Diamond snapped. "You're talking to me as if I haven't already had this conversation with your Diamond, which I have. Who are you to waste my time with such nonsense, even on her orders? The specifications of the Habitat were decided upon at the outset. Any reduction in capacity is a betrayal of our agreement. I've heard excuse after excuse, and endured interminable presentations from her insufferable Peridots. I don't care what they imagine they can accomplish with polymeric modification! The population level was decided based on their calculations, so I view any attempt to revise those figures as an admission of _incompetence_."

Beyond the interlocking triangles of the dome, the Earth hung in the sky, damaged but intact. Swirls of cloud played about its fractured continents.

The voice on the other end of the communicator found the courage to make another muffled point, and instead of flying into a rage, Pink Diamond merely gave a cold smile.

"I've no doubt she _would_ like them back. But if it was really so important, wouldn't she be telling me in person instead of through a lackey?" She barked with laughter. "Not even her own lackey! If Blue wants her Lazulis so badly then she can contact me herself. And I'll tell her the same thing I'm telling you: finish the Habitat and the gems maintaining this colony can be reassigned. In the meantime, they're doing important work and I can't possibly spare them."

A final halting entreaty came through the angular device.

"Of course you'll have to inform Yellow Diamond," Pink bellowed, "I'm _telling_ you so you can tell Yellow Diamond! That's how this **works**! Tell her what I said, and tell her that I said it!" With a shout of frustration, she threw the communicator across the room, where it ricocheted off an ancient stone mural before clattering to a halt across the cold floor. 

"All this time," she complained. "All this time and they still won't take me seriously. When I've proved myself! They just can't bear to admit that it's possible to construct a successful colony while still preserving its organic culture. When I've proved it." Her eyes flashed with anger. "I've _proved_ it!"

Pearl spoke up. "The Earth colony shines as an exemplar for the whole galaxy."

"As it should! And yet what does it matter, as long as my fellow Diamonds continue to deny the value of its cultural resources? When they denigrate my aesthetic contributions to the empire? They accept my gifts with never a word of praise." She laughed bitterly. "I even played a trick on them once. A fresco I'd commissioned, celebrating the might of Homeworld. Oh, of course they were happy to accept it as the token of a flourishing colony. And yet, when I finally told her it was not the work of my gems, but one of my organics? Do you know what Yellow said?"

Her servant, who knew the story forwards and backwards, did not answer directly. "What did she say, my Diamond?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"'Its inferiority was obvious from the first.' And pretended she had only been indulging me!" Pink Diamond clutched her head in her hands. "Even at this remote distance, I am never truly free of them. Just when I start to feel things are going well, I'll receive a single curt message and suddenly it's as if I never left. As if everything I've done is pointless."

"The value of your accomplishments speaks for itself, my Diamond."

Pink Diamond calmed herself a little. "You always know just the right thing to say," she sighed. "Even a Pearl can understand! You can't keep humans in a glass enclosure and tinker with their polymers. It runs counter to the principle of preserving their authentic way of life. That's what was _agreed_."

"Whatever my Diamond says," Pearl modestly assented. "This servant couldn't begin to understand the complexities involved in cultivating organic life."

Her reward was an indulgent chuckle. "You do yourself a disservice! I could never have got this far without your help and advice. Success is within our grasp, I just know it. I'll hold them to their promises and a part of Earth will be safe forever. And then," Pink Diamond gestured expansively, "we can apply everything we've learned on a whole new colony! Can you imagine? Blue and Yellow could be destroying sentient life forms even as we speak, when Homeworld could so easily benefit from their cultural resources just as well as the material ones!" She sighed. "I've been stuck out here too long. We can preserve these civilisations before it's too late, if I only have my Habitat."

Pearl did not meet her gaze. "I only wish that every colony could be touched by your mercy, my Diamond."

"And I could have the opportunity to apply everything I've learned from this first colony. All the little mistakes I made along the way — no," Pink Diamond put a hand up, pre-empting her servant's protest, "you know that even a Diamond can make errors, though I would never ask you to admit it. If I knew when I started as much as I know now, the whole project could have been completed in a fraction of the time. I suppose Blue and Yellow couldn't believe their luck when I made that deal." She scowled. "When I exchanged one tower for another."

"Think of the future," Pearl suggested. "When the Habitat is ready, the colony can be completed in a few short solar cycles."

Her Diamond slouched back in her chair and gave a measured sigh. "I know they'll finish building it for me," she said to nobody in particular. "I'm wise to their games. In the end, they'll do whatever it takes to avoid causing a fuss. And they're not getting their gems back without a fuss." Her brows knitted as thoughts of her fellow Diamonds continued to stew. "They'd love to keep me here forever," she muttered through gritted teeth. "I can hear their... _condescending_ voices. 'Pink's little project,'" she sneered, clenching a fist. _"'Pink's little project!'"_

Pearl, observing this monologue with concern, suddenly sprang to her feet. "May I sing for you, my Diamond?"

Startled out of her dark mood, the Diamond stared in surprise. Then, she gave a warm smile. "Better still, Pearl. Wolf will play some music and you can dance for me."

The pale balletic gem gave a strained smile of compliance.

Pink Diamond called out across the room. "Play for me, Wolf. Play me something new! Please, something cheerful, and not so melancholy as your recent works."

With a silent sigh, the temporally-extended composer dragged his chair over to a harpsichord comprised of an alloy unknown to human metallurgy. Without preamble, he struck up a tune and watched as the Pearl pirouetted elegantly among the works of art, to Pink Diamond's visible delight. Then, he allowed himself a glance out of the window at his former home. Shafts of warm light penetrated the darkness of night in the western hemisphere. On the threshold of daylight, a cyclone was gradually breaking up as it approached a hole in the ocean.

Could he really be blamed, he wondered, for indulging in a little melancholia? Faced with such a view, who could deny feeling remote from humanity, and from their own humanity? As this afterlife had increasingly numbed him to the physicality of being, he had retreated into his music.

He observed Pink Diamond clapping with delight, her troubles forgotten. It was strangely easy to placate the gem that had resurrected him. Although she was always delighted by his ability to produce new songs on demand, she never seemed to notice or care that most were simply variations on earlier works by himself or his contemporaries. A cheap parlour trick, serving to keep him in his captor's favour. Even now, the music flowing from his fingertips was not original in anything but the most pedantic sense of the word. It was a simple enough matter to transpose the tune into a major key and introduce some arbitrary tonal juxtapositions, and yet beneath the obfuscation, this was once again the final movement of his Requiem.

During his tenure in Pink Diamond's court, he had carried his compositional work through to its logical conclusions and beyond. Perhaps it was the case that his more recent pieces had become colder and more formal, lacking the dynamism of his earliest work. He had been given the time to explore to his complete satisfaction the intricate universes contained within a musical stave, until finally his curiosity had been exhausted.

Now, it was to the Requiem that he found himself increasingly drawn, as the years added up with no sign of any end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started life as a Half-Life 2 crossover. No, really.
> 
> To be more precise, the underlying concept came about when I was brainstorming ideas for stupid crossovers, and found myself contemplating the idea of the Diamond Authority taking the place of the Combine. Ridiculous, of course. Then, as I gave it some more thought, it began to seem not only un-ridiculous, but a worthwhile premise to explore in its own right.
> 
> A lot of the time when people come up with an interesting AU, they publish a series of blog posts summarising the details, and I think "That's interesting and all, but I would rather read a story set in this universe than what basically amounts to an unused design document." So as not to be hypocritical, I concluded that I should write a story set in this alternate timeline, and in doing so I have learned why people so often do the blog-post thing instead: it's much quicker and easier. I do not blame them.
> 
> My aim was to write something that established the setting in some detail and, if possible, also fulfilled the minimum requirements to count as a narrative. (Something about conflict and/or a change in status quo? I haven't read Campbell.) I initially intended to tell the story from the perspective of various characters, but I realised early on that I was only writing from Connie's viewpoint, and just stuck with it. Consequently, there's a lot of detail that's never confirmed in the narrative due to the lack of information accessible to Connie, and a number of questions that are left unanswered. I had my reasons for leaving certain things vague, but that doesn't mean they are secret. Bearing in mind the primacy of the text and the Death of the Author, I am happy to answer any questions in the comments about what was in my mind when writing.
> 
> (It's also entirely possible that I will release some kind of annotations/commentary at some point if anyone is interested. There is a non-zero chance that I will do so regardless. [EDIT: [It turned out to be a 100% chance.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086477/)])
> 
> As a consequence of this story's premise, several characters from the show do not appear, notably Steven himself. There are perfectly good stories set in parallel continuities where the author contrives a reason for Steven to exist despite no longer being the son of Rose Quartz, and I have no problem with them doing this. It's just not how my mind worked in this case. Still, ultimately the set-up here is no less contrived: given the historical divergence from the canon timeline, how would all of these characters still end up in Beach City, or even exist in the first place? Give it any logical thought and you realise that this is not really an alternate timeline at all, but a new setting altogether, in which the characters have been unceremoneously conjured to life and shoehorned into proximity with one another.
> 
> It is important to mention this, because it means that if anyone in the story appeared to behave out of character at any point, it's because they are in a sense not the same character as in the show, and it is thus entirely justified. But the real reason I bring it up is to signal that, if someone wanted to write their own story based on this setting (and nothing would delight me more,) I would have no objection to them finding a way for Steven or other characters to be included. (Nor do I wish to imply that they would need my permission in the first place!)
> 
> Finally, a brief linguistic note. As everybody knows, the word 'okay' is an arbitrary neologism from the 19th century and thus would never have come into existence under the circumstances depicted in this story. Therefore, it does not appear in this story. Also, 'hello' did not come into common use as a standard greeting until the advent of the telephone, so that had to go as well. It is surprisingly difficult to avoid using these words, so when you do so it is very important to make sure and tell everyone about it.


End file.
